The Legend of Zelda: Link's Promise
by TennisWriter456
Summary: The sequel to Link's Reward. Link, a young, courageous hero, is about to be named Hyrule's Knight of Honor. The first ruler in the kingdom's history to have no blood connection to the Royal Family. He has the whole kingdom in the palm of his hands, but to him, it doesn't matter. For he broke a promise, and now, he intends to redeem that promise.
1. Old Woman with an Arched Back

**Yes. I've cracked.**

**Welcome, all of you lovely people, to the sequel to Link's Reward!**

**I debated long and hard about whether I wanted to write this. And now, here it is! My newest baby.**

**A quick warning: it's probably completely different than any of you ever imagined js. I hope you guys like it, but I do know for a fact that it son't be anything you expect. Enjoy it anyway!**

**The story is completely finished, so you won't have to worry about ANY long delays. I will update the story every two-four days. Just because I love you people so much.**

**QUICK SHOUT-OUT TO Nightwing94 FOR GIVING ME THE IDEA FOR THIS AMAZING TITLE.**

**(you rock and you're sexy)**

**As a warning, this story contains cursing and some (extremely mild) sexual content. That's why there's a T-rating. **

**Now, without further ado...**

**Enjoy, you amazing people.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter One: Old Woman with an Arched Back

An old woman with an arched back and shaky hands was walking through the center of Castle Town. She sat down on the edge of the fountain, tightening her thin shawl around her arms. It was her thin shawl because it was the middle of summer, and she had decided that wearing her thick one would have been too warm. As she listened to the running water and the excited screams of children and breathed in the fresh morning air, she found herself thinking about the soldier again. The soldier that she had seen on the steps a few weeks ago. His face passed fleetingly across her mind, and she cursed her failing memory. Perhaps it was simply because there were too many voices clouding her thoughts. Or perhaps the sun was too bright in her eyes.

"What was his name again?" she murmured. "Ah, it's useless."

She remembered him only as the beautiful soldier in the green tunic. Not even his eye color was clear in her mind. The old woman began rubbing her hands together to feel the silky fabric of her shawl between her palms. It was of the finest fabric—she had received it from the King of Hyrule himself. She laughed at herself thinking about how long ago that must have been. Watching the people pass by in the plaza had become a hobby for her. So while she sat on the edge of the fountain, she watched the people. An old man passed by her. She wished that she knew his name so that she could call out to him and introduce herself.

"We old people have to stick together," she laughed to herself.

Always to herself.

Her gaze moved to the spot where she had seen the soldier with the faint hope that she would see him standing there again. She enjoyed speaking with him. She enjoyed wiping his tears and holding his hand. And she had a very important question to ask him. If only she knew his name.

The old woman stood up with her arched back and shaky hands and creaky knees. She shuffled, still rubbing the shawl beneath her palms, to the nearest guard.

"Excuse me. Where can I find the soldier in the green tunic?"

He looked down at her with his straight back and steady hands and quiet knees. She could see the confused expression in his eyes as they peered through his helmet.

"I beg your pardon, ma'am?"

"The soldier. In the green tunic. I want to speak with him."

"I'm afraid I don't understand. There are a lot of soldiers wearing green tunics."

"No, no, no," she sighed, waving her wrinkled hand in frustration. "No, not _a_ green tunic. _The_ green tunic. The young man, in _the_ green tunic!"

The soldier began nodding and fiddling with his spear.

"You must mean Master Link."

"Yes! That was his name," she smiled. "Link. Now, where can I find him?"

The old woman argued with the guards standing in front of the castle gates for at least ten minutes before they conceded that there was absolutely nothing dangerous about her and let her inside. If there was one good thing about being old, she thought, it was that she had had years and years to perfect her skills in arguing. With a coy grin playing on her old lips, she hobbled past them, and they stared after her with wide eyes. But she just kept walking and rubbing her palms together and smiling to herself.

"I really am an old woman," she said.

Then she walked through the large gates leading into the castle. The main hall was as large as she remembered it—as large and as beautiful. Portraits of nobles she knew and portraits of nobles she didn't know adorned the walls. They stared down at her with serene, calm eyes. As if saying, "Welcome to our home." She grinned back up at them and said, "Thank you." When she reached the end of the hallway, she stopped in front of one portrait in particular. It was of a young woman. Her soft blue eyes sparkled even in the portrait. There was the slightest hint of a smile on her thin lips, not enough to make her seem happy and not enough to make her seem sad. She was sitting in a red velvet chair, an intricate dress falling like water over her limbs, and her delicate fingers lay clasped in her lap.

"You almost look more like a princess in death than in life, my dearest."

The old woman let her fingers graze the name written beneath the frame. The inscription said, _She who gave all she had to give and more._

The hall was empty and large. Each footstep she took resounded like a symphony. And even though she hadn't been inside the castle in years—not since the King of Hyrule passed away—she remembered the labyrinth. She remembered where to turn, which doors to open, who to say hello to and who to ignore. Nobody even bothered to say anything to the strange old woman walking, as if she was a princess, through the halls of the castle.

She found herself standing in front of two large wooden doors. The shawl fell from beneath her hands as she wrapped it around her neck and pressed her palms against the etched engravings of the door. She scratched a little bit, to feel the ancient beauty beneath her fingernails. And then, groaning with the effort, she pushed the doors open and walked into the castle's library.

Even when she had spent her days frolicking around the castle, she had seldom visited the library. It was much bigger than she remembered, with so many books that her eyes began to ache simply looking at them. The symbols were just swirls, lovely designs meant for people much younger than her to read. And it was much more quiet than anywhere she had ever been. She could hear the pages of the books rustling against each other, calling out to be read. The old woman sighed and her back arched more and she began weaving her way around the shelves, around the books, around the swirls, around the colorful tapestries and sunny windows.

Then she saw a table. Someone was sitting at the table. A book was open but there was nothing being read, for the person sitting at the table had fallen asleep. As she inched closer, she wondered if she had come to the right place. The person was not wearing a green tunic. But when she sat down at the table across from the person and glanced at his face, crushed against the pages of the book in accidental slumber, she knew that she had come to the right place. This was the soldier she had been looking for. She waited desperately for him to open his eyes so that she could see what color they were, but then the waiting became too much. She had never been a patient person, after all.

The old woman tapped his flushed cheek.

The young soldier (who wasn't wearing the green tunic) lifted his head slowly, drifting out of a dream.

_Blue,_ she nodded. _His eyes are blue. And so like a wolf's. _

He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his sandy, disheveled hair, and then he stared at the old woman with a blank expression. She couldn't count the number of times she had seen people look at her like that.

"Hello," the old woman greeted. The young soldier blinked, took a deep breath, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. His face looked heavy, as if he hadn't rested in years.

"Hello."

"How are you today?"

"Fine."

"You seem very tired."

"So do you."

She opened her mouth and laughed, because it was true. She was very tired.

"You can read people well," she said.

"I'd like to think so."

Without a word, she extended her crooked arm across the table. The young man reached forward and let his hand rest in hers. She began stroking it, knowingly, like a mother soothing her crying child. Because even though there were no tears, she could hear his heart. It was weeping.

"When am I going to see your portrait up on these walls?" she asked.

"A few weeks."

"How exciting."

"As long as they put mine next to hers, I don't mind it."

"A simple request."

"Yes," he yawned.

And then, just as she had been expecting, he lifted his other hand to his chest and retrieved a necklace from beneath his collar. A necklace with a ring. Trembling, he began to graze the ring's surface with his fingertips. It was like an instinct, a reflex. He had long ago broken eye contact with the old woman, but she continued to stare at those penetrating blue eyes. In all of her years, she had seen so few eyes that looked like his—that shined as brightly, even in the midst of terrible sorrow.

"How did you even find me?" he asked.

"I asked where the soldier wearing the green tunic was. They told me you were probably in the library."

"I don't wear that green tunic anymore."

"I saw you wearing it a couple of weeks ago."

"I only wear it when I need to."

"Why were you wearing it that day?"

"Because it was her anniversary."

"Ah."

The old woman squeezed the young soldier's hand more tightly. He finally smiled at her. An obscure, quiet, thankful smile. He closed his eyes for a few moments, as if desperate to watch the images flashing behind his eyelids.

"Why did you want to find me?" he asked.

"I wanted to ask you a question."

Their conversation was interrupted by a guard rushing up to the table, spear in hand. The young man and the old woman stared up at him, still grasping each other's hands. She hated interruptions, but she should have been expecting it. She should have known what precious little time she had with him.

"What is it?" the young soldier sighed.

"Master Link, the Royal Council wishes to consult with you."

"Very well. Tell them I'm on my way."

The guard nodded and gathered himself up and rushed off again, leaving the old woman in a state of exasperation. Still holding her hand, the young soldier stood up and closed his book. Sunlight flooded in from the window behind him and made him look like he was made of gold. Smooth and sparkling and absolutely lovely.

"What was the question you wanted to ask me?"

The old woman finally let go of his hand and patted it lightly.

"Just this one. Have you decided whether you're going to swim with the current of destiny's river, or are you going to fight it?"

Then, the young soldier truly smiled. It was a smile of relief, of satisfaction with himself. He leaned forward and kissed the old woman's forehead. His lips were cool and young against her warm and old skin.

"I'm going to fight it," he whispered.

As he walked away, she saw him tucking the necklace back beneath the cloth of his tunic. The old woman watched his back until it hurt her eyes to narrow them that much, and then turned her gaze to the book in front of her. Tears filled her eyes.

It was a book about the ancient Temple of Time.

Carlotta stood up from her chair, rubbed her shawl between her hands, and left the castle.


	2. Cynical, Sarcastic, Irritable

**Chapter two, coming right up!**

**I love angsty Link. In case you haven't noticed.**

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Chapter Two: Cynical, Sarcastic, Irritable

That night, it was in a bathtub.

It was completely filled with clear, pure water that wouldn't ripple, as if it were glass. The bathtub was as white as snow and decorated with elaborate golden ornamentation in the shape of small angels carrying small triangles in their small fingers. And it was in the middle of a vast, grassy, infinite meadow, where flowers sprung up and smiled at the sky. There was no end to it—the flowers and the grass and the bright, cloudless blue sky, stretched on forever. The light in the atmosphere was soft and golden, but there was no sun. The grass was swaying in perfect rhythm, but there was no wind. Simply the land and the sky and that bathtub.

He lay completely submerged in the warm, glassy water with his face turned to the sunless sky. But he wasn't alone. He was leaning backward against someone else, whose body made him calm and secure. Her two arms reached over his shoulders from behind and her two hands moved up and down his bare chest, softly. Lovingly. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against her shoulder, felt her breath on his cheek. Those delicate fingers continued moving up and down, soothing his nerves, relaxing his muscles more with every stroke. When he opened his mouth and sighed, he could almost hear her smile, and she leaned her head against his. He just let his entire body fall back, melt into hers, release all of the tension.

"You're always so tense," she said.

"I know."

"You need to relax."

"I know. But..."

"But what?"

She dropped her voice to a whisper and brought her lips to his ear, where the sound of her voice made his entire body tremble. Her hands moved up from his chest to his neck. She squeezed, and he fell back further.

"I don't know how to relax when you're not there," he sighed.

She laughed, gently, quietly, in his ear.

"That's always your excuse."

"And it always will be."

"It's already been a year, my love."

He didn't respond. Instead, he lifted his hand from the glassy water and held it up, watched it glisten in the light for a few moments. And then he watched her reach over and grab it. Her fingers weaved through his like silk, fitting together so undeniably perfectly. And there was that ring, beautiful and sparkling, sitting on her hand as if it had always been there and would always be there. She brought his hand back and pressed her lips against his skin. The touch was healing, cleansing, heart-wrenching. He couldn't help but furrow his brow and suck in his breath because the beauty of that touch was so painful.

"I know how long it's been."

"You can't stay like this forever," she murmured. Her lips moved from his hand to his temple, where they sat and made his entire mind numb. "You know you can't."

"Why not?" he asked, tilting his head. She squeezed his hand more tightly, but there was a hint of sadness there. He could sense it.

"You're going to forget my voice soon."

"No I'm not," he urged. "I never will."

"Of course you will. No matter how hard you try. We forget things. We move on."

"I can't."

"My poor hero," she said. Then, with her other hand, she reached across his chin and tilted his face just slightly. He finally looked into her eyes and was almost brought to tears by how breathtaking she was. "My poor, poor hero."

She brought her lips to his. Gave him life. Made any remaining tension in his muscles slip away into the water. Desperate to remember, to capture this moment and never let it go, he reached up and let his hand rest on her cheek.

"My poor hero."

Her hands resumed stroking his chest and he leaned his head against her shoulder once more.

"I won't have to forget," he said.

"Everyone has to forget."

"No, because I'm going to change it."

That laugh again, like music running down the back of his neck.

"What do you mean, you're going to change it?"

"I'm going to go back and change it."

Her hands stopped moving. They just rested against his chest, as still as the water itself. The sweet breath that had been keeping him sane stopped, leaving him with an empty silence. Even her skin against his suddenly felt cold. The grass stopped moving in the silent wind.

"Link, what—?"

"I love you," he interrupted. "Please just tell me you love me, too."

"Of course I love you. That's why I—"

"Don't say it. Please."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to."

The grass began moving again and he felt the warmth in her body return. He sighed in relief as she wrapped her arms around his chest and held him against her. His thumb stroked her forearm and he held on as if for dear life.

"I love you so much," she said, "and I know you love me. But you can't keep doing this. Every single night. It's going to drive you insane."

He turned his eyes to the sky and reached back to touch her face, her lips, her silky hair. Felt her respond to his touch and breathe out.

"Then I want to be insane."

* * *

Link was awakened by the sound of loud, heavy knocking on his door. His entire body was tingling and he was gripping his pillow so tightly that his arms hurt. The warmth that he had convinced himself he was feeling was gone—perhaps had never been there at all. He refused to open his eyes as his mind drifted back to reality and his head pounded. The knocking was much too loud and much too rude.

"What do you want?" he screamed, turning over in his bed. He hated the sound of his voice like that, raspy and groggy and sad.

"Master Link, please open the door. There is a lot to be done today in preparation for the ceremony."

"Always in preparation for the goddamn ceremony," he mumbled into his pillow.

It had already come to that time of the day, the time at which he had to pick himself up and dust himself off and put on a face. One of strength and ability and heroism. The face of a leader. So, struggling with his desire to let his voice scream out in frustration, he stood up from the bed and embraced the cold air.

"Very well then. I'll be out momentarily."

He even surprised himself with his ability to mask the storm perpetually raging within him. After that day one year ago, when his entire world had crumbled, he had been convinced that life would be like a puzzle with a constant missing piece. He had been convinced that he would never be able to function again, that hopes and dreams and accomplishments would no longer be a part of his life. And yet, in the midst of his teetering insanity, he had somehow managed to reach this place. He had somehow managed to take not small steps, but giant steps forward, to a place where he thought she might like to see him.

_If only you could see me now. What I've accomplished because of you, for you._

He wallowed in that same thought that crossed his mind every morning, every day, every minute, every second. But then he dragged himself up and stared at himself in the mirror and put on his mask. There were more steps to be taken today, more lives for him to change. Link moved to the entrance of his room and opened the door, where a soldier stood, young and bashful with red cheeks and bright brown eyes. He was one that Link didn't recognize. Perhaps a new recruit.

"Sir Link—I mean, Master Link—I mean—"

"Just call me Link," he interrupted. "That's my name, after all."

"O-of course."

"So, who wants to bug me first this morning?"

"The tailors, sir. They need your measurements. A-and then the painter wants you to sit for him. And o-of course there's the Royal Council meeting tonight, in which you'll be discussing—"

Link smiled, then put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Breathe. It's okay. What's your name?"

"L-Ladan, sir."

"Ladan. Thank you. Tell the tailors I'm on my way."

"Yes sir!"

The boy straightened his back and gave a salute, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, before rushing off. He seemed to be about the same age Link had been when he had begun his journey. Maybe younger. Link put his hands on his hips and stared after him, down the grand hallway. Then he stared up at the tall ceiling and braced himself for the doting, the questions, the expected answers. Finally, he stepped out of his thoughts and made his way to the throng of people waiting just for him, calling out, Master Link, our Knight of Honor.

But on his way out, as he did every single time he passed by her portrait, he knelt in front of it and said, "I love you." Then he stood up, took a single stepped forward, and pressed his lips against the golden plaque of her name.

* * *

"You're still not sleeping well."

"Of course not."

"You know, a lack of sleep can lead to the shortening of one's life span."

"Well, I've taken the risk of 'shortening my life span' in the past. I don't think I'll worry about it too much now."

Link sat down at the small table in the back of the bar, shrouded in darkness, rubbing his eyes and clenching his fists. Shad watched him, crossed his arms, furrowed his brow. Link hated it when he made that face. It made him feel as if he were doing something wrong, even though he knew that he was doing everything he could. So he avoided looking into Shad's eyes and stared down at the splinters of the table instead. Clenched his fists and unclenched them. He considered taking Shad's dagger, just so that he would have something in his hands to fiddle with. Lately, it had become harder and harder for him to bear idleness. So, of course, he began playing with the ring that dangled on the necklace around his neck.

"It's so odd," Shad sighed. "You seem exhausted and restless all at the same time."

"I am exhausted and restless all at the same time."

"Also a bit cynical."

"And sarcastic. Oh, and don't forget irritable."

Shad smirked and began flipping through the pages of his notebook. Always the pages of his notebook. Link wished he had a notebook to flip through when he didn't have anything to say during conversations. He squeezed the ring so hard that he felt a mark appearing on the palm of his hand. It was only noon, but he considered asking Telma for a drink anyway.

"So, how was your morning?" Shad ventured.

Link shrugged and leaned back in his chair, just far enough that he was nervous about falling backward. But he knew he wouldn't.

"Fine. Those old council members sent someone to wake me up at the crack of dawn."

"For what, exactly? The council session isn't until tonight."

"Logistics for the ceremony, something like that."

"Come now, is it really that difficult to plan?"

"I'm not sure I'm the right person to be asking."

Shad scoffed and fixed his glasses, crossing one leg over the other in his seat.

"Well, you _are_ the one being knighted," he smiled. "I assumed you would know."

Link managed to smile back and shrug again.

"It's a wonder you people are giving me so much power," he mused. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Shad raised his eyebrows, licked his finger lightly, and turned the next page of his notebook. He had broken eye contact with Link and was reading—or maybe pretending to read—while he spoke.

"I hardly think that's true, _Master_ Link."

"I hate that title."

"Speaking as a member of the council, I believe you know exactly what you're doing."

Link didn't respond. He just stared up at the ceiling, fiddling with the ring, letting his thoughts about the past couple months flow through his head. The concepts still hadn't settled. It seemed as if every moment, someone was telling him what to do. And then the next moment, someone was asking him what to do. When people looked at him, they were looking up, and he didn't like that. He didn't like looking down. He wondered how Zelda had ever been able to do it.

"Link, sweet pea, you know I hate when you lean back in your chair like that," Telma grumbled as she brought him his daily bowl of soup. "You're gonna fall, and I'm gonna get blamed for injuring Hyrule's Knight of Honor. They'll have my head!"

"Sorry, Telma."

He forced himself back to earth and dug his spoon into the soup. Deep red. Probably tomato today. She stood at the table where the two friends sat, her hands on her hips and her cat rubbing restlessly against her legs.

"How are you feelin' today?"

"Fine."

"You look tired."

"Thanks, I really think it helps to hear that one hundred times."

"I mean, even more tired than usual," she sighed.

Link stuffed the spoon into his mouth and ignored the pain of the steaming soup on his tongue. Shad and Telma glanced at each other wordlessly. He knew the questions that were coming and he mentally prepared himself.

"When did you go to sleep last night?" Telma asked.

"I don't remember."

"I think the old chap is lying," Shad interjected.

At that, Link slammed his spoon down on the table and buried his face in his hands, tugged at the knots in his hair.

"Do you know why I come here?" he asked. "Why I've come here every single day for the past year?"

Neither of them answered, so he looked up at them and forced a smile.

"I come here because I don't have to deal with the questions, the stress. It's not stressful here. Nobody is telling me what to do, nobody is asking me how to rule an entire kingdom, nobody is taking my measurements or doing my hair or painting my portrait. Nobody is telling me how awful I look and I get to eat delicious soup. So please, don't take away my haven. I didn't sleep because I didn't sleep, okay?"

Shad and Telma's eyes had become sympathetic. Almost pitying, and Link felt something squirm inside of him. If there was one thing he hated seeing in people, it was pity. He didn't want to feel pitied. He cursed himself for saying anything at all instead of just picking himself up and leaving.

"Link," Shad said quietly, "how many days do you have left?"

He picked up his spoon and began to eat again.

"Ten."

"Just one more question, sweet pea." Telma placed her hand on top of his head and ruffled his hair. "Will we have to start referring to you as 'Master Link' after the ceremony?"

"Oh, don't tell me that!" Shad laughed. "I don't know if I would be capable of it."

"No, no," Link smirked. "Your Majesty will do just fine."


	3. The Nest in the Library

**I am coming to the gradual realization that I am terribly mean to all of my characters.**

**On that note, enjoy!**

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Chapter Three: The Nest in the Library

It was a little over a year since the death of Princess Zelda.

After it happened, Link had fallen into a phase of pure rage. He had felt rage toward himself, rage toward the goddesses, and rage toward anyone who tried to help him. He had descended into himself and prayed that someway, somehow, he could join his princess up there in the heavens.

But then she had started coming to him in his dreams, and he had found motivation to move forward. He had risen up from his rage—though it still visited him on almost a daily basis—and was driven only by his desire to carry on her legacy, to do what he thought she would have done. And so, he had taken up a post in the Royal Guard. He had moved up. And up. And up. He had been known throughout Hyrule as the Hero of Twilight, but even so, he had shocked the entire nation with his prowess. There was not a single person who could best him with a sword, not a single fighter who could defeat him or outwit him. Eventually, he climbed too high for the ladder to even reach, because he wanted to change Hyrule just like he knew Princess Zelda had wanted to.

For that period of time, Hyrule had been leaderless. Zelda had left with no heir, no heiress, no one to carry on her name or her royal blood. So after that one year, as the Royal Council struggled to bring the nation together and as Link struggled to move forward, the two came together. The council decided, to honor the Hero of Twilight and the savior, the protector, the defender of Hyrule, they were going to name him Hyrule's Knight of Honor.

Link was going to take his place as the leader—the first to have no blood connection to the Royal Family—of Hyrule.

* * *

Link stared at himself in the mirror and wondered if his reflection was truly of him.

_Stop it. This is what you want._

He stepped into his shining black boots, draped his gray cape over his shoulders, and adjusted his thin, golden headband. It had almost become habit to go through the motions of making himself look like a leader and walking like a leader and talking like a leader. It was still strange, though—the idea that there were guards standing outside of his door who referred to him as 'Master.' The idea that the Royal Council was sitting at a round table, discussing Hyrule's policies, waiting for his arrival before making any decisions. The idea that in ten days' time, his word would truly become law. People would start kneeling in his presence. His portrait would go up on the walls of the castle, with those of Hyrule's past leaders.

_Right next to hers._

But there was something else on his mind as he walked from his chambers, habitually made his way to the council room, threw open the doors and ordered that the council session begin. It was always there in the back of his mind, festering and calling his name. Telling him that there was something else he needed to be doing, something much more dire; the ring, constantly tucked beneath his tunic, burned against his skin. His dreams, night after night, revolved only around her. He wasn't sleeping well. He wasn't eating well. He wasn't thinking clearly. Sometimes he couldn't even breathe.

All because of her.

After Link ended the session and the members of the council dispersed, off to their quarters and their loved ones and their happiness, he simply sat in his chair at the end of the table with his fingers clasped in front of him. Brooding.

Tonight was the night for him to take the next step.

"Shad, wait."

"Yes?"

With his book tucked under his arm, Shad approached Link where he sat with his ready step and bright eyes.

"I...I need your help."

"Of course, anything, old boy."

"Will you come to the library with me?"

Shad threw his head back and laughed, as if the question had been a joke.

"Will I come to the library with you? Link, my dearest friend, if I could live in the library I assure you that I would."

"Right, I should have known."

Together, they made their way to the castle's grand library, where Link could hear the books calling his name. There was still so much to be read, so much to be known, so much to be understood. Yet suddenly, with Shad by his side, he felt more confident. If there was anybody he trusted with the concept of knowledge, it was Shad. In fact, over the past year, Link had come to trust Shad with almost everything. At that point, Shad was the only person who knew almost everything there was to know about him.

_Tragedies bring people together, I suppose. _

"I've been hearing rumors that you've made your nest in the library," Shad said.

Link took a deep breath, opened the doors of the library, and began to maneuver around the shelves. As if he truly did live there.

"If you mean to imply that I've been spending a lot of time here—"

"Yes, that is what I mean to imply."

"Then the rumors are true. As much time as I can."

"Well, I never knew you had such passion for knowledge," he replied enthusiastically. Link glanced over at him, saw a bright twinkle in his eyes.

"To be honest, Shad, there's something specific I need to know. And it seems as if there's never enough information about it."

When they reached his corner, his small niche of books and accidental slumber and sorrow, there was a large pile of books sitting on the table, the same one at which Carlotta had visited him only yesterday. And there was that same book he had been reading, the page at which he'd stopped dog-eared, waiting for him.

"If it has anything to do with the history of Hyrule, I'm your man."

"I know."

"So, what do you need to know about?"

Shad dropped his notebook on the table and took a seat, his eyes scanning the books as if they were delicacies making his mouth water. Just being in the library seemed to give him a new, silver glow. Link brushed his cape back and sat down in the chair opposite him.

"The Temple of Time."

At this, Shad almost stopped breathing. His face fell, he grew pale, he began fidgeting with his glasses, as he always did when he was anxious. As if he could suddenly read Link's mind. Because, after spending so much time around him, he probably could.

"Dare I ask...why?"

"Because," Link said. His determination was impenetrable. "If you want to fight the current of destiny's river, you have to know everything about the river first."

Shad furrowed his brow and tapped the table with his fingers. Link continued to stare at him, eyes narrow and hands steady.

"If it weren't for that face you're making, I would swear you're joking," Shad said coldly. Link crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"I'm not joking."

"How long have you been thinking about this?"

"About three months."

"And you've been here ever since..."

"Trying to learn."

Shad took a single lock of hair and began curling it around his finger. Over and over, fidgety and nervous beneath Link's everlasting gaze. His glasses were slipping lower and lower down his nose.

"I have to say, I thought you were fairly out of your mind when I first met you," he shrugged, "but now it's been confirmed that you are raving mad."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

He threw his arms into the air and kicked back his chair, directing his eyes up to the mosaic ceiling.

"If only I could! There's so little information about this subject, I don't know where I would even begin. And to be honest, you probably know more about this temple than any scholar in Hyrule."

Frustration was beginning to set in. Link grabbed the book, ran his hand along the elaborate cover, and then tossed it across the table. More strongly than he anticipated. Before Shad could react, it slammed into his chest and his chair fell backward. A single yelp escaped his lips before his back collided with the ground and he was left grumbling. Link simply crossed his arms again and sighed.

"...Was that really necessary?"

"Sorry."

Still laying on the ground, his glasses strewn across the floor, Shad held the book up and examined it.

"This must be the only book in the entire library dedicated to your particular subject of interest. Am I right?"

"As always."

"Oh, you flatter me."

Still moaning and groaning to himself, Shad turned onto his side, fumbled for his glasses. When he finally managed to take his seat across from Link once more, his face bright red and his glasses slightly crooked, he opened the book up. As his eyes scanned the page, Link could practically see the gears shifting in his head. He was drinking in the information just as if it were water. The ring began burning more hotly against Link's chest. They sat in silence for what seemed to be an eternity, Link sitting on the edge of his seat while Shad read and read and read. The light streaming in through the windows began to dim.

"Link."

"What?"

Shad lowered his voice to a whisper, took on a horribly serious expression, and slammed the book shut with a dreadful sense of finality.

"Listen carefully to me. This is not something you want to get involved in."

"Yes it is."

"I don't think you truly comprehend—"

"You're right, I don't. That's why I'm asking for your help." Link buried his face in his hands because he couldn't bear to look into Shad's eyes, so pitying, any longer. "I'm begging for it, Shad."

"I can't help you with this, old chap. And even if I could..."

The pause that followed made Link's entire body tense.

"I'm not exactly sure that I would."

Link's fists dropped against the wood and shook the table so hard that the pile of books tumbled onto the floor. The sound of their pages being crushed against the floor resounded throughout the entire library, like human screams. The frustration that had been building up, festering within him like a virus, was exploding, and he didn't know what to do about it. He had come so far, his determination was so strong.

_I can't stop now. _

_ I made a promise._

"Link, I know it's hard."

Shad reached across the table and put his hand, gently and frightfully, on his best friend's shoulder. The touch almost made Link flinch, because it wasn't the touch he wanted. It was never the touch he wanted. The one touch he always craved had disappeared one year ago.

"I know it is," Shad continued, "but you have to be practical. You have to understand that the world has limits, and what you're trying to do...it doesn't fall within those limits."

"Have you ever loved something so much that you would defy the limits? That you would go against everything everyone has ever told you?"

"Don't make me answer that question, I beg you."

Link started to shake his head. Things were not going as he had planned, as he had wanted them so desperately to go, and he felt as if he were standing on the very edge of a cliff ready to tumble forward into deep, dark oblivion. It was a crushing feeling.

"You are so important to us," Shad continued. "You've become the symbol of our peace. Of our contentment and our happiness. We need you _here_, _now_. You are Hyrule's hope. _You_."

"I know, I know."

"And you made it here with sacrifice. Link, you've sacrificed enough. Let yourself move forward. You've sacrificed enough."

Suddenly, Link was screaming. He had lost control. Just like in those weeks after it had first happened. He slammed his fists against the table again, harder, until he felt the pain erupt in his hands. He closed his eyes for a single moment and saw her face staring up at him, speaking to him, as that last breath left her divine lips...

"_I'll never have sacrificed as much as she did!_"

A few moments of sickening silence.

"Don't you get that? I've sacrificed _nothing_ compared to what she sacrificed!"

"Link—"

"How the hell am I supposed to live with that burden, Shad? Can you answer that question? _How?!_"

His hands moved to the thin golden band in his hair. He pulled it out, stared at it for a few moments, and then threw it to the ground. As he sat fuming, screaming, consumed in rage and frustration and desperation, Shad watched him. Unable to say a single word because there wasn't a single word that could be said. Nothing that could pull Link out of the abyss into which he had slipped once more. Link thought that maybe it was the small beacon of hope calling out to him that dragged him down there. Using claws of false pretenses. Finally, Shad grabbed a piece of parchment, a quill, and began scribbling.

"I take back what I said earlier," he sighed. "You don't know more about this than any other scholar in Hyrule."

Shad's fingers were trembling when he folded the paper and slid it over to Link.

"There is one. I studied with her for a few years."

Link was biting his lower lip to keep from just completely losing all control. The ring was now like fire against his skin, so he reached into his tunic and squeezed it in his palm to alleviate the pain, even if it was just by a bit. He stared at the piece of paper wordlessly, attempting to recover from the storm once more. Shad stood up, tucked his notebook under his arm again, walked around the table. He crouched down so that his eyes were level with Link's and he tried to smile, but it was a shaking smile. As if he were holding back tears.

"Love is a powerful thing, Link," he said. "One of the few subjects about which I know very little. And love is something to fight for."

Slowly, he shook his head one single time.

"But don't fight for love if it means fighting against the very fabric of the world. You of all people should know how to choose your battles."

He stood up and walked out of the library, leaving Link with his piece of paper and his rage and his overwhelming sadness. As soon as Shad's footsteps died, Link opened the parchment and saw a few lines scribbled in Shad's messy, almost incoherent writing. And those few lines were enough to calm him a bit, brighten the beacon of hope that had almost died.

_Tara_

_ East Road_

_ Fifth building_

_ Sixth floor_

_ (Bring chocolate. It might help.)_


	4. Tara

Chapter Four: Tara

That night it was in a tall, leafless tree.

Thick branches spread out from the thick trunk of the tree as if parts of a strange, hardened spider web. Their fingers curled upward toward the sky, grasping for something that they would never quite reach. But they grasped anyway. The roots of the tree were visible in the ground and seemed to spread across the entire, boundless surface of the earth, drinking from its soil and basking in its nutrients. Etched into the bark of the tree were intricate designs dedicated to the beautiful images of the three goddesses and the gifts they had left for them. They were dancing, holding hands, jumping around the trunk of the tree. Even in the crude etches, there was a mischievous look on their faces.

He sat on one of the long, steady branches, let his legs dangle over the side. He leaned back against the trunk and felt the light of the absent sun on his bare skin, somehow knowing that no matter what happened, he wouldn't fall. It was almost as if he were floating up there among the branches of the magical tree, hovering over its branches, never really clinging and never really clawing at anything. Simply sitting, lingering, breathing in and out. She was sitting further down the branch—far enough that he should have been worried about the balance, about the branch simply cracking and sending them both down to oblivion. But he wasn't worried. The balance was perfectly fine. She dangled both of her legs over the same side and held his hands in hers, tracing patterns on the surface of his skin.

"You're still tense."

"Of course," he sighed, banging his head back against the trunk.

Her hair fell over her naked shoulder like a curtain so long that it brushed the branch. He took his hand out of her grip for a single moment just so that he could run his fingers through that hair. When he did that, she rolled her eyes and smiled so beautifully that he stopped breathing. But he managed to smile back, just as he always had and just as he always would.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful that smile is?" he said.

At that she laughed, and then pulled his hand from her hair so that she could continue caressing it. She always knew exactly what to do to make him feel like the most loved person that there ever was. He let his muscles slump and drowned in her gentle touch.

"More times than I can count."

"I just feel like I don't say it enough."

"Not that it matters, does it?"

His muscles tensed up again and he opened his mouth, but she looked up at him through that curtain of hair and her lips curled into a smile and she said, "Shh." Then she kissed his fingers—one by one, until the sensation of her lips came alive inside of him. He loved watching her, loved looking at the ring on her hand, loved experiencing this beauty in all of its divinity. All of its purity.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said.

"You can ask me anything you want." She squeezed his hand tightly and pressed it against her forehead.

"What is it like up there?"

"I feel as if you've asked me this question before."

"I probably have. But I can never remember your answers."

"Do you honestly expect me to answer?"

"Are there others up there?"

She shrugged and dropped his hand, reached her arms forward until her fingers were wrapped around the branch between his legs. Then she leaned forward and he could feel the tips of her hair tickling his thighs. Her lips touched the very center of his chest, so lightly that he couldn't even find a reaction.

"I don't know," she breathed against him. "I spend too much time here with you."

* * *

Link woke up on his own that morning. The first thing he did was call in a butler and send him to tell the council that he wasn't feeling good. A lie, of course, but he needed an excuse so that they wouldn't bother him at all that day. When he opened his eyes and recalled his dreams, recalled his meeting with Shad, recalled the crumpled piece of parchment still clutched in his fist, he felt a renewed determination and a renewed hope. He got dressed as swiftly as he could, donning his most casual tunic, and stepped into his old brown boots. Then, before anyone could say anything about him looking perfectly healthy, he slipped without a sound into the busy streets of Castle Town. Of course, stopping at her portrait, kneeling, saying "I love you."

He often wondered if people never recognized him because they didn't know his face yet, or because they were lost in their own thoughts. But no matter what, even out in broad daylight less than two weeks before his knighting ceremony, nobody was ever able to recognize him. When he walked through the streets with his swift pace, he could see people's eyes pass right through him—some squinting, perhaps wondering, "Where have I seen that face before?" But Link had never felt the need to disguise himself, and knew that in nine days, that would not be the case.

_Maybe I won't even be able to leave the castle after that. _

The first place he stopped was a small booth in the marketplace of South Castle Town where sweets were sold. He bought two boxes of chocolates, his hand constantly reaching back into his pocket and fiddling with the piece of parchment. The man selling him the chocolates was looking at him with a suspicious gleam in his eyes.

"Who's the lucky lady?"

"No one. They're all for me," Link replied. Then he stuffed the chocolates into his bag and walked away.

As he made his way through the cobblestone streets toward East Road, he realized that he had no idea what to expect. He had simply looked at the name Shad had given him and decided, within an instant, that speaking to her was the next step he needed to take. But he had no idea who she was. What she was like. Why Shad had given him her name in the first place. He had a knack for charming people, but perhaps this time was different. And he felt deep inside that it was.

_Of course the goddesses aren't going to make this easy for me._

The moment he turned onto East Road, he tightened his fist around the sheet of paper. It seemed emptier, darker than any other part of Castle Town. Dogs and cats followed at his heels and he saw men, women, children, huddled in the shadows of the rickety buildings. All of the shutters were closed, as if the inhabitants were trying to keep out any light. But he continued walking, searching the sides of the buildings. Finally, he found himself standing on the front steps of a tall, wooden building—its shutters closed just like every other building—and a faded number five etched onto the door. He pushed open the door and faced the stairwell. Each step he took was more creaky than the last, up past the first floor, the second floor, the third floor, the fourth floor, the fifth floor...

When he reached the sixth floor, he felt horribly anxious.

_What could possibly be behind this door...? _

Even through the cracks in the wood, he saw not a single shred of light from inside the room.

_It doesn't matter. _

He reached his fist up and knocked on the door. As soon as his knuckles made contact with it, it creaked open, not having been locked or even fully closed. He narrowed his eyes and drew back for a moment.

"...Hello?"

There was no answer from within, and his anxiety was only growing.

_What have you gotten me into this time, Shad?_

"Hello? Tara?" he called again.

Still, there was no answer. But the door was open, and he had already bought the chocolates, and he was desperate at this point. He needed any shred of hope, any help that he could glean from the often eccentric inhabitants of this town. So, after a deep breath, he pushed the door open further and stepped inside.

It was almost completely dark, save for a few flickering candles in the obscure corners of the room. The first thing he did was question why someone would bother lighting candles not even in the middle of the day, but in the morning. He could see the specks of dust clinging to the air, could smell the mustiness and the raw disorder. There were sheets of paper scattered all over the floor, some crumpled and some stained. As his eyes scanned the room in a meager attempt to see through the darkness, he noticed multiple desks. Each had books upon books piled almost as high as the ceiling itself. Link's eyes were beginning to adjust to the odd, orange darkness.

There were clocks everywhere.

On the walls, on the desks, on the floor. Each one had a different shape, a different design. Some were simple, some were complicated, some were so loud that he could hear the ticking. And as he began walking around the room, stepping around the sheets of paper and glancing at the faces of the clocks, he saw that every single one was off from the others by a little bit. Not a single pair of clocks was in unison, and the ticking continued in a chaotic hum of syncopated beats. But he saw something else other than the clocks adorning the walls: photographs. There were photographs of so many different people, so many different places, things that he would have thought pointless to photograph—like the flame of a candle. And wherever there weren't photographs covering the wall, there were equations written in bold letters right there on the walls. Numbers and symbols that he couldn't understand.

"You know, it's horribly rude to _barge_ into someone's house."

Link straightened up and whirled around as a voice cut through the silence like a knife. There, standing at the doorway to the bedroom, was a woman. She stood with her hand on her hip and her dark, thick eyebrows raised, staring at Link as if he were a cockroach that had somehow managed to squeeze its way in through the shutters. He couldn't even react. He just blinked in silence, wondering where she had come from and why he hadn't heard her.

The woman couldn't have been much younger or much older than Link, but it was strange. He couldn't tell which it was: older or younger, or maybe even the same age. She was short with a curvy figure, and wore a simple red blouse over tight black pants, but she was barefoot. Her hair, such a deep purple that it looked black, was tied up and fell in a long, thick braid that reached the end of her back with a single, fiery red streak among the dark tresses. Large, glimmering golden necklaces lay around her neck—at least five of them, tangled up among each other, matching the heavy golden earrings that reached down to her shoulders and continued up along her pointed ears. When he glanced at her fingers, each one had a ring of a different color adorning it. And even through the darkness, through the turmoil of his mind, he could see the soft violet color of her eyes gleaming in anger.

"I'm looking for somebody," he finally managed.

"Yeah? Well, I really wish I wanted to help, but I don't."

She bent down and grabbed a stack of papers lying at her feet and then put them on her desk, adjusting a photograph that was crooked as she did. All of her jewelry jingled.

"So you can leave now."

"I knocked, but there was no answer," he continued, standing his ground. She pursed her thick, blood-red lips and continued glaring at him.

"Right. And that means you can just come in, does it?"

She began taking small steps around the room, bending down and picking up stacks of paper as she did. Even so, the room was like chaos. He couldn't help but notice how comfortable she seemed in the very center of that chaos, reveling in her ability to create it and disassemble it with her very own fingers.

"Are you Tara?" he asked. He wasn't going to let her bully him, not after he had dragged himself this entire way. He was going to do this no matter what.

"Wow, look at you, big boy. Knowing people's names."

"I need your help."

"Like I said before, I don't care. I don't appreciate stuck up nobles like you barging in here and look through my things, all right? You can leave."

Link narrowed his eyes and stood completely still, staring at her as if she were some kind of witch. She didn't take notice of his incredulous gaze and continued with whatever it was she was attempting to do.

"I'm not a—"

"Please, you think I don't know who you are?" She straightened her back and flipped her braid over her shoulder, the read streak shimmering like fire, smirking at him with a dreadfully intimidating expression. "_Master_ Link?"

Even after all the monsters he'd fought, the battles he'd been through, the horrors he'd seen...Link was confident that he had never felt this frightened in his entire life.

"I'll say this one more time," she sighed. "Leave."

Link thought that perhaps now was the time to draw his first weapon from the arsenal. He reached into his bag and pulled out a box of chocolates.

"I heard you enjoy chocolate," he said. Her eyes moved to the box and he saw her entire comportment change for a moment.

But then, Tara resumed her steely glare and crossed her arms.

"How do you know who I am?"

"A friend told me about you."

Link took a few steps forward and offered her the box. She stared at it silently for a few moments, then she whisked it out of his hands and had the first bite in her mouth almost instantly.

"Which 'friend?'" Her voice was muffled through the chewing.

"Shad. He said that he once studied with you."

Tara threw her head back and let out an enthusiastic laugh before popping the next chocolate into her full lips.

"Shad! I haven't heard that name in a _while_."

Before she had even swallowed the piece of chocolate in her mouth, she put in another one. Link just watched wordlessly, wondering how he had managed to put himself in this mess. It was comparable to walking into a cave where a monster was waiting to devour him. The emotions he felt then were the same emotions he'd always felt when nearing life or death situations.

"I guess he told you about my weakness to chocolate," she chuckled. "But it doesn't matter. Just because you're giving me chocolate doesn't mean I'm going to help you with anything. I still don't appreciate your elitist attitude."

"Shad said that you can help me with something. Something important."

"And I probably can. Doesn't mean I _will. _There's a large difference there, sir."

This was the first time he had ever met someone who, knowing exactly who he was, didn't treat him like some kind of king. It was almost refreshing. After stuffing one more piece of chocolate into her mouth, she put the box onto one of her numerous desks, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pipe. Her eyes never left his as she lit it and let the smoke flow from her nostrils in smooth, foggy streams. Link stood and thought and tried to recall facing an enemy who had made him feel this small. And the constant ticking of the clocks was beginning to take its toll on his nerves.

_The clocks..._

"I need to know about the Temple of Time," he blurted.

Tara froze, as if his words had struck a chord deep within her.

"Do you now?"

"You know a lot about it."

"More than anyone."

"Then help me."

"Ha! I've spent years studying this, dedicated my entire life to it. What could you possibly have to offer that would entice me to help the likes of you?"

Link hadn't even noticed that he'd begun fiddling, with trembling and desperate fingers, with the ring around his neck. As she smoked her pipe and sank down into a small, weak chair, Link racked his mind for something. Anything. And then it came to him, like a strike of lightning.

"Have you ever seen the Temple of Time?" he asked, taking a step forward. She raised her eyebrows at him and blew a stream of smoke into his face.

"How do you think I've gotten all of my data, Mr. Hero? By sitting around in this dump of a city? Don't be ridiculous."

"When was the last time you were there?"

Link bent down so that his hands were gripping the arms of the chair, trapping her and lowering his voice until it was almost at a whisper. He could sense Tara's growing tension as she blew smoke into his face.

"A few months ago."

"So you know what the Door of Time is?"

"Don't insult my intelligence."

"And you know that it works...don't you?"

Before Link could even take another step, she jumped out of her chair, let the pipe fall to the floor, grabbed his collar with both hands, and pinned him against the nearest wall.

_Good girl._

"I swear to Din, if you're tricking me—"

"Oh, you _didn't_ know? Well, that's a bit surprising."

"Stop patronizing me, you royal dog."

She pulled him back from the wall just so that she could pin him back again. Link maintained his hard, stony gaze as her hot, raging breath fell against his skin. This fear he felt was different than any he had ever felt before. Her eyes...they were like daggers.

"If I told you that I could take you back in time," he murmured, "what would you say?"

"And if I told you that I think you're full of shit, what would _you_ say?"

"So you don't think it's possible?" he challenged.

"I think it once _was_ possible, but not now. There are too many missing pieces."

"If you help me, I can take you through the Door of Time. And you can see the real Temple—not just its ruins. Please, Tara. I...I'm desperate."

She brought her face so close to his that their noses touched, and his level of discomfort grew to astronomical heights.

_She can smell my fear._

"Fine. I'll help you. But if I find out that you tricked me," she hissed, "I will personally have your head on a silver platter, do you hear me?"

Link just sighed in absolute relief.

* * *

**Yes, yes, I understand that canonically Tara should never have been able to visit the Temple of Time without the Master Sword and the wolfiness and such. But whatevs. She did. Cuz I said so. #idowhatiwant**


	5. Some Chocolate and a Pipe

**Yeah I hardly understand what I even wrote in this chapter. So if you don't understand, it's okay. That just means you're human. **

**(I never really know what I'm talking about.)**

* * *

Chapter Five: Some Chocolate and a Pipe

"Do you smoke?"

Link shook his head and leaned back against the closed shutters.

"Suit yourself."

She relit her pipe, ate a piece of chocolate, and sat back down.

"So tell me, Mr. Hero. Why are you so desperate for information about the Temple of Time?"

"I need to know how to manipulate it."

"Well in that case, I suggest you turn that cute ass around and go home," she laughed through the smoke.

"It's been done before."

"You're right, it has been. But Nayru knows how many years ago. Centuries, based on what I know. Back when we understood time. There's no way to do it now."

She leaned her head back over the chair and stared at the ceiling, taking deep breaths. Her neck was long and pale and slender. Link clenched his jaw and watched, feeling his initial relief slipping away. He wasn't sure how long he could bear to be in this atmosphere of complete hopelessness. The ring was burning again, his fingers were itching again, he was sliding back into a phase of sorrow and despair. He needed this; he needed the capability to remind himself that there was something to live for. Something to sacrifice everything for.

"Then again..." she smiled. "If you're not a lying bastard and actually mean it when you say the door works, it would be a completely different story."

"How different?"

"Well, different enough to study in immense detail. How much do you know about time, Link?"

"I can give you a map of the whole temple. Tell you what's inside, how to get there, how to get out."

"Right, right, I get all of that, but that's not the question I _asked_. How much do you know about time? Even someone like you can sit and read about the temple and 'know' about it. But what do you know about time?"

There was a strange twinkle in her eyes when she said that. He began tapping his foot against the ground and watching the particles of dust fly up around him.

"It's just a passing flow," he said. "Something that goes on and on and can't be stopped."

"And that's where you're wrong, pretty boy."

Tara stood up and he saw the passion surrounding her. With an energy he hadn't seen her display before, she puffed out smoke in large circles and began pacing, a smile constantly tugging at the corners of her lips. After each step, she hopped up a little bit, as if she had too much energy to contain.

"Time isn't a passing flow, it's not a constant flow. Think about it for a second."

Letting the pipe dangle from her lips, she grabbed one of the small clocks sitting on her desks and pointed at its face.

"When you look at this clock, it's what you think, right? That time keeps going?"

"Yes."

"Now look at _this_ clock."

She grabbed a different clock with her other hand.

"It's behind the other one, isn't it?"

"By about five minutes."

"Well look at that, he can tell time, too. Yes, you're right. By five minutes. So this clock says that it's 8:00. But this clock says that it's 8:05. If time is a constant flow, something that doesn't stop, then why is it stopped?"

Link furrowed his brow.

"For the clock that says 8:00, time is stopped relative to _this_ clock, that says 8:05. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm sorry, but—"

"Of course, of course you don't understand," she scoffed. "Don't feel too bad, not many people can."

She tossed him one of the clocks. It was light in his hands and when he ran his fingers along its surface, it was warm, and he could feel it functioning. The face of the clock was painted to look like a cat, the hands being whiskers. He could hear its ticking, he could see its ticking. It made him smile a soft, quiet smile.

"What time does your clock say?" she asked.

"8:06."

"So over there, for you and for that clock, it's 8:06, right?"

"...Right."

"But here, for me, it's 8:01. According to these clocks, time over there has stopped relative to the time over here. Yes?"

She paused and gazed at him intently, waiting for something to sink into his brain. But he himself felt nothing. It was the first time that he began questioning his own intelligence, and that made him nervous. Because in less than two weeks, he was going to be ruling an entire kingdom.

"Now tell me, how is time to be understood as constant when it's just not? We are standing here, in the same place and presumably the same dimension, but we see different times."

"It's just the clocks," he stammered. "The clocks are different, not the time."

Tara smirked and lifted the pipe to fill the room once more with its sweet, intoxicating aroma. Every inch of Link's skin was crawling. He hated feeling so lost. It made him reach for the ring again so that he could feel her there with him, rubbing his shoulders and whispering in his ear.

_She would understand this. _

"Are you absolutely sure about that? That time isn't fluctuating?"

He opened his mouth to say that yes, of course he was sure. But the words wouldn't come out. They were stuck in his uncertainty.

"All right, let me ask you this." She began pacing again. "How is it possible to go back in time, to something that has already happened, if time is constant and always moves forward?"

"I...I don't know."

"Quite simply, it's not possible. Everything that has ever happened and everything that _will_ happen is not as concrete as we think. In reality, it's all happening at once. The past is happening right now. The present is happening right now. The future is happening right now. At this very moment."

Link bit his lower lip and pulled at the ring. Suddenly the ticking of the clocks was making him dizzy and light-headed.

"Like you said before, it's been done," she breathed. "People have gone to the past. But how is that even possible?"

"I don't know—"

"Neither do I!" She threw her arms into the air and spun around, enthralled by her own shortcomings. By all of the things she had yet to discover. "I've spent my whole life trying to figure it out."

Yet another chocolate disappeared into her mouth.

"It's almost more philosophical than scientific or mathematical," she sighed. "The equations continue to elude me, unfortunately. Sometimes I question if there is anything to study, but then I think, of course there is! Because life isn't just philosophy. It's science, too. And time is the essence of it all."

"I have a bit of a headache."

"That tends to happen. I would offer you chocolate, but I want it all for myself, so I'm not going to."

As his headache persisted, Link let himself slide to the ground and stretch out his legs. He was surrounded by papers with scribbles that were not even recognizable—maybe some kind of crude handwriting? It was even worse than Shad's. The entire ground shook when he sat down, and Tara watched him with an amused smile, puffing out more smoke with each moment. The smell was soothing to him.

"Come on, babe, I can't have confused you that much. The savior of Hyrule, confused by a little smart talk?"

Her words were piling up on each other, higher and higher, weighing heavily on all of the words that were already there on his chest. Making it harder for him to breathe, harder for him to see or think clearly, harder for him to even blink. He buried his face in his hands and just shook his head, because he wasn't sure what to say to her. As her ideas of time floated around in his head, the entire situation became much more overwhelming.

_How did I do it before...centuries ago...?_

"Well, take this as a warning, I guess," she shrugged. "This is what you're getting yourself into. Messing with the fabrication of the world. It's dangerous stuff."

"I don't care how dangerous it is," he murmured. He could hear the darkness in his own voice. The rage was coming back. Ebbing and flowing like an ocean. "What happens to me isn't important."

"As chivalrous as ever, I see."

He heard Tara's footsteps approaching him, but he refused to look up. Just the sight of her was intimidating to him at that point. The atmosphere of the room was choking him. She crouched down beside him, and before he could even look up at her, she stuffed a piece of chocolate in his mouth and placed the pipe in his hand.

"Listen, I understand that these concepts are hard to deal with," she said. "Why do you think I have an obsession with chocolate and smoking? Because when I bury myself in this shit, drown in philosophical questions all day while trying to make it into something concrete like numbers, I need something to remind myself that I'm alive."

"He did it before," he mumbled. "_I_ did it before. It has to be possible, there has to be a way to change it, I have to—"

"Why are you so intent on this whole 'changing the world' stuff? You've already done it. Twice. Messing with time to do it a third is not smart. At all."

"This time it isn't about the world. It's about something more important than that."

"All right, maybe you're not understanding me."

She sat down beside him and forced the pipe into his mouth.

"First, take a smoke. Second, _listen to me._ Dealing with something like this is unbelievably dangerous. You very well might change the world, but it could be for the worst. You're dealing with the very threads that make up our world. This isn't some monster that you can just slay, Mr. Hero—this is time itself. One of most dangerous concepts out there. Trying to manipulate it is foolhardy at best."

Suddenly, her face fell, and she became somber.

"It's made people crazy. It's ripped their minds apart, piece by piece, until there's nothing left. The past, the present, the future. Those words don't really mean anything. And you shouldn't try to give them any meaning. It'll destroy you."

"Do you know how many times I've heard warnings like that?" he laughed dryly. But he took the smoke, and it felt good. "People telling me not to do things because they'll destroy me?"

"I don't mean physically, babe."

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. He heard her stand up and felt her take up her pacing once more.

"I mean mentally. But..."

He opened his eyes and watched her watch him.

"It seems like you're determined to do this no matter what. I don't really know what you plan to do, and to be honest, I couldn't care less. But I'll help. Because if you haven't already figured it out, I have an obsession with time." She spread out her arms, gestured toward all the clocks that adorned her home. "And I'm not going to pass up an offer to truly experience it."

When Link stood up and made his way toward the door, he handed her the pipe and the second box of chocolates. He had managed to find a grip on his mind once more, but he hadn't felt such a desperate need for a nap in a very long time. They decided to meet again tomorrow, in the café of the central plaza. Though in reality, Link wasn't completely certain of his ability to handle her two days in a row.

"Sleep on it, 'kay?" Tara called as he turned the door knob. "Don't jump into anything stupid. You may know about the temple, but I assure you. You know nothing about time. Oh, one last thing." He paused just before closing the door and walking down the stairs. She stood in the center of the room with her hand on her hip, just like she had been when he'd first seen her. Like a strange, surreal warrior of time. "Tell Shad I said hi. I kinda miss the dork."

* * *

That night, still under the guise of being sick, Link slipped out of the castle and made his way to Telma's bar. He knew that on a night like this, when freedom was heavy in the air and stars were shining this brightly, the Resistance was bound to be there. Drinking each other's weight in alcohol, no doubt, and after what he'd been through, Link was not about to miss out on that. He could hear the sounds of music and dancing and screaming coming from the bar all the way from central plaza, and it made his steps quicker. When he walked into the bar, he could hardly move it was so crowded. The heat of the room was intense and over at the bar, Telma was completely in her element, handing out drinks left and right while Louise sat with her presumptuous gaze spanning over the heads of the patrons.

"Link! You finally made it out, eh?"

As he finally reached the table in the back, which had become like the Resistance's personal territory, Ashei stood from her chair and slapped him on the back. Instead of responding, he snatched away the drink in her hand and downed it in one gulp.

"We don't see you here at night much," Auru pointed out. He was calm and seated, as always, with his paternal atmosphere and model sobriety. His silver beard had grown out. "Too busy running things in the castle, I suppose. But nevertheless, it's good to see you, Link. The only times we really get to see you are at those dreadful Royal Council meetings."

The young hero slumped down in the nearest chair while Ashei ruffled his hair and, just as Link had taken her drink, took Shad's. Not that he minded. He had never been a heavy drinker.

"Hmm, he's extra quiet today. Stop looking so serious for once and loosen up!" Ashei cried in between sips of her drink. And then, with red cheeks and a soft glow, she slammed her mug on the table and took her place on Shad's lap. His face became the color of a ripe tomato.

"Oh my."

Link wished that he weren't so consumed by his own deep, dark thoughts. Every day, every morning when he opened his eyes and wrapped his head around reality, those thoughts and those desires became even darker. He felt himself stepping further away from sanity each moment, and he knew that the others could see it, too. Ever since the idea of time had made its home in the most obscure recesses in his brain and spread out, just when he'd thought he could move on, it had been this way.

He was so sick of feeling sad and lonely and mournful.

But there was just nothing else for him to feel with that ring around his neck and the promise he had made so clear in his memory.

"Ah, Link, did you go to East Road today?" Shad asked.

Ashei, rather drunk at that point, wrapped her arms around his neck and began rubbing her cheek against his. His glasses fogged up and his hands shook, but somehow, he found it within himself to make some kind of coherent conversation. Link grasped the drink that Auru handed him, took a large gulp, and then nodded.

"I'm assuming you met her?"

He nodded again.

"And...?"

"She says hi," he swallowed. "How do you even know someone like her?"

"We were in school together. Had a bit of a rivalry, actually," Shad chuckled. "She's always been quite, ahem...bold, if you will."

"Are you talking about that girl with the obsession with clocks?" Ashei blurted. "Man, is she weird."

"Oh, you met Tara today, did you, Link?" Auru raised his eyebrows.

"You know her?"

"We tried to have her join the Resistance when it was first established," he replied.

"You wouldn't believe it, but the two of us were quite close then," Shad added. "We must've been...fifteen? Sixteen, perhaps?"

"She seriously considered joining. But something held her back. We never discovered what it was. One moment, she was so very eager. She said she wanted to change the world with her discoveries of time and that we could help her." Auru paused, leaned forward, rested his chin on his hands. "The next moment, she practically disappeared from society. Told us to never contact her again. She was once a revered scientist and philosopher, and now people don't even remember her name."

Out of the corner of his eye, Link saw Shad shift nervously in his seat. As if there were words sitting behind his lips that he was hiding. Some kind of secret.

"I've tried time and time again to speak to her, but she's always been so resistant," Shad finally sighed. "Even when I bring the chocolate. So gradually, I've stopped trying."

"Better off!" Ashei cried. "Too weird, if you ask me, yeah? Ugly, too."

"Actually, I found her quite beautiful," Auru said. "Not to mention absolutely brilliant."

Ashei narrowed her eyes at him for a moment and then leaned harder against her escort for the night.

"What do _you_ think about her, Shaddy?"

He looked around anxiously, as if he were pinned in a corner. Link hid his smile with another sip of his drink.

"Ugly. Horrible."

"Good boy."

"What were your impressions, Link?" Shad urgently directed the attention away from himself.

Another gulp then, because he wasn't tipsy enough just yet.

"She's good at giving headaches."

"Tara's always had a knack for that."

"And she's absolutely insane."

Shad laughed and tightened his grip on Ashei's torso.

"Yes, well," he shrugged, "you are too."


	6. A Game of Cards

**I hope you peeps like it so far! Lemme know what you think :) **

**And now, without further ado, another chapter where I do sad, unfair things to Link. **

**Yay!**

* * *

Chapter Six: A Game of Cards

That night, it was at a table.

The table was unfathomably tall and completely carved from the whitest, smoothest marble. It sat in the middle of a lake, its grand surface rising up like a temple from the glistening, colorful waters. But the lake had no bottom, no depth, no width. It simply spread out with its rainbow ripples and large marble table. The table was cold, but the water was warm, both dark and light and bright with reflections of the world.

He sat in a dramatic chair, red velvet, on one side of the table, and she sat across from him. Even across the table, which seemed to span for miles and miles and miles, she was so close that he could feel her breath. Their reflections in the marble smiled up at each other. Each of them held six hand-painted, beautiful cards in their hands from a single deck in the center of the table. But he wasn't paying attention to the cards. His eyes stared straight ahead. Her hair brushed over her shoulder, her delicate fingers gripping the cards, her porcelain skin glimmering, she smiled over at him from behind the cards.

"Your turn," she said.

Without even looking at the card, he laid it down face up in front of him.

"Now it's your turn."

She sat and pondered her hand while he pondered her absolute perfection. Then, with a calculating expression, she laid down one of her own cards.

"I have news," he said, giving up another card.

"Tell me."

"I found someone who's going to help me."

She grinned and put down a card. It had a joker on it, with its face painted completely white and its lips almost as red as hers.

"Help with what?"

"You know what."

"I wish you would just drop this, darling."

His hand was trembling when he put down the next card. But before he could lift it again, she reached forward and began caressing his hand, just as she caressed him every single night with that angelic touch. He closed his eyes and wondered why he had put down that specific card.

"You lose," she murmured.

"I miss you so much."

"I'm sorry."

"More and more every day."

"Letting go is hard, but it might make it better."

"I can't. I won't."

He bent forward over the edge of the table, let the cards float down into the lake, held her face in both hands. Kissed her with desperation heavy on his mouth. He pulled away and let his lips move down her neck, swaying with her deep breaths.

"Please let me make my own sacrifices," he murmured, "just like you made yours."

"I think that defeats the purpose." She closed her eyes and began running her fingers through his hair.

"Well then, what if I told you that I don't accept it?"

"What, destiny?"

"Your sacrifice."

"I would tell you that it's not your decision to reject. It's mine. And I already made it and accepted it willingly. It's in the past."

"But the past is happening right now," he said. At that moment, it seemed as if she stopped breathing. Her skin became cold beneath his breath. "The future is happening right now. It's all happening right now."

"Sometimes I question if I ever really understood you."

"Maybe you didn't."

"You can't change the past."

"I did it before. Centuries ago. When I saved Hyrule then. I did it."

"Well then I'll change my argument," she sighed. "I don't _want_ you to change the past."

He lifted his face so that he could look into her eyes. They were steely.

"Let me tell you why I made my sacrifice. I made my sacrifice so that you wouldn't have to, Link. Can't you understand that?" she whispered. "Can't you accept that? Please?"

It was the first time that he had seen her crying in his dreams.

"No," he shook his head. "I can't."

The chair he was sitting on disappeared, and he fell down into the lake while she slipped from his grasp.

* * *

There were tears on his pillow when he woke up, even though his eyes had been dry in the dream. He stared in silence at the wet marks and wondered how long it had been since he had truly cried.

_Not since the day she died._

The strangest part was that he didn't feel as sad as his tears portrayed. When his eyes opened, they were dry again, and he wasn't holding back any tears. His lips weren't trembling, his jaw wasn't clenched, his head wasn't aching in sadness. He simply woke up and felt himself there. And then he remembered that he had somewhere to be.

When he stood up, something changed inside of him. A dagger, sharp and already dripping with blood, plunged itself deep into his heart. He crumbled to his knees and clawed at his chest, suppressing his screams. Someone was taking the dagger and pushing it further and further in, twisting, eager to hear him scream. He thought for a moment that he was still dreaming and in a few moments, he would wake up. But that moment never came. He just knelt beside his bed, panting, trying in vain to rid himself of this terrible inner pain.

_This hasn't happened for months. Why now?_

He closed his eyes and as soon as he did, her face appeared in the darkness. Her tears were like waterfalls and he had never seen such an expression of sorrow. Not even on his own face when he looked in the mirror. She was speaking to him, saying something, but he couldn't hear anything. She was reaching out to him and drawing further away at the same time. Finally, he heard himself scream. He was screaming for her to come back.

A few minutes later, guards burst into the room. They found him kneeling, clutching his chest, doubled over and screaming as if there actually were someone stabbing him.

"Don't leave!" he cried. "You can't leave me!"

The guards crouched down and called his name. Their voices were harsh and made him scream louder. When they reached out to help him, their touches were like fire and made him flinch. Then, as quickly as it had come, the blinding pain subsided. Link slumped forward into the shaking, opening arms of one of the guards. He opened his eyes and closed them again, trying to make his surroundings clear. But he could barely find the strength to breathe.

"Master Link, what happened?" they asked. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know."

"We'll send for the doctor—"

A voice, familiar, that Link knew only he could hear, rang out above them.

_ "Love me in the way that I want you to love me. _

_ Don't make my sacrifice meaningless. _

_ Step forward, not backward. _

_ Stop making me cry."_

"No, don't get the doctor." Link stumbled to his feet, pressed his palms against his forehead. "Just leave."

"But—"

"Don't make me say it again."

"Of course, Master Link."

They scurried out, leaving him alone to drown in his agony. He sat back down on his bed and tried to forget about hearing that voice. Usually, he wanted to hear it more than anything because the truth was that he was afraid of forgetting it. Each chance he had, he took. But the way she had sounded when she had said those words...hurt, betrayed, dying. It made his stomach churn and his skin clammy.

He knew that he had a million things to do. More fittings, the portrait, the Royal Council meeting, the rendezvous at the café, mental preparation for taking the fate of an entire kingdom in his hands. But he just couldn't think clearly enough at that moment to even stand up. So he sat. And he stared at the tears staining his pillow. Tears that he was absolutely certain he hadn't cried. But if he hadn't cried them, whose tears were they?

He thought that maybe responding to her might help him breathe again.

"I'll love you in the way that I have always loved you.

Your sacrifices are now and forever my sacrifices.

To step forward I need to step backward.

You're not here to cry."

Then he stood up and prepared for his first meeting.

* * *

He had always like the café because of its tea. It was always warm and had a hint of mint in it. Serenity flowed into him with each sip, and he liked the seating, too. It gave him a nice chance to people-watch. Something he had found himself doing more and more lately. Perhaps he was making up for all the years he had spent watching only goats. That afternoon he sat with his cup of tea, breathed in the scent of the mint, let the liquid burn his tongue, listened to the classical Hylian music and watched the people walk by. He was trying so hard to distract himself from the fear of hearing her voice again, the fear of feeling that pain in his chest again. In the weeks after she had died, the pain had come almost nightly. He would wake up with his voice hoarse from screaming. Gradually, the pain had come less and less often, until it disappeared completely.

Until that morning.

"And here I was, hoping you wouldn't show up."

Tara was suddenly there, taking a seat at his table. Her eyes seemed brighter, even more violent, in the raw sunlight. Everything about her was shimmering and loud and seeing her almost instantly gave him a headache.

"Good afternoon to you, too," he sighed.

"I guess my warnings didn't work. You look as determined as ever."

As the waiter came around, she crossed her legs and leaned her forearms on the table. It was small enough that he felt uncomfortable with her face so close to his.

"What can I get for you, mademoiselle?"

"Chocolate ice cream."

"Anything else?"

"If I wanted anything else I would've said so."

"Of course."

She began tapping her nails on the table in a rhythm that Link thought was much too similar to the rhythm of a ticking clock. Her eyes scrutinized his face for a couple of moments, drinking in every single detail and making his heart beat just a little bit faster. And then her lips turned up into a crooked smile.

"I intimidate you, don't I?" she said.

"To the point that I shake."

"Don't worry. I won't bother you with my concepts of time today. We can do it your way and talk about the temple for now."

She began playing with the braid that had fallen over her shoulder. And he wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed that small diamond in her nose yesterday. Her lips were still full and red, always adorned with that mischievous smile. Confidence emanated from her just as he felt discomfort emanating from him.

"First thing's first," she continued. "What is it like?"

She looked a child waiting for a birthday present.

"There are two parts. There's the temple itself, but there's a way to go deeper."

"Deeper?"

"There's a pedestal—"

"Yes, yes, I know about the Pedestal of Time, go on."

"When I put my sword in...I can go deeper into the temple."

"You're telling me that your sword—"

"Is the Master Sword. Yes."

"So that's what it's called," she smiled. "The Master Sword. The key to time itself."

At that point, she was restless. Every few moments, she shifted her position in her seat and tinkered with her necklaces.

"Tell me more about the temple."

"It's huge, elaborate, difficult to navigate," he said. "To be honest, it gives me an eerie feeling."

"Yesterday you said you had a map. Do you have it with you?"

At that point, the waiter returned and placed a bowl of chocolate ice cream on the table. As she dipped her spoon into the cream, brought it to her lips, watched him with hungry eyes, he reached into his bag and pulled out the map. He wasn't sure why, but he had never managed to convince himself to clear his bag of them. He still had every map from every dungeon he'd ever visited. When he spread it out on the table, Tara sucked in a sharp breath. The map was tattered, the ink was smudged, and his incoherent notes were all over it. Just looking at it reminded him of the struggles he went through, the maze he had been forced to figure out, the monsters he'd fought. His headache became worse.

"This is incredible. You really meant it," she laughed. "This is the real deal."

She let her finger move along the page, hovering from room to room, her eyes drinking it all in. Every few moments, she would mumble to herself. Something about the layout, the mechanisms, the silly scribbles he'd made. And then, she stared straight into his eyes and took another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"Was it beautiful?"

Link furrowed his brow. He had never been asked anything like that about his journeys. And he'd never thought about it. Beauty wasn't what came to mind when he thought of everything that he'd done to get to this point. But she was so eager, the question was so sincere. He just didn't know how to answer.

"What do you mean, beautiful?"

"You do know what that word means, don't you?"

"Not in that context, no."

"How did you_ feel?_ When you were in there?" she persisted.

Link paused. Another question he had rarely ever been asked. How he felt had never really factored into the equation. Not even for him.

"I felt...ancient."

"Yeah, you look it, too."

"Thanks."

Tara leaned back in her chair, the spoon in her fingers, and stared up at the sky. Silence hung between them, as heavy as bricks. Frustration and impatience settled in his mind to the point that he didn't even know where to look. She seemed as if she were thinking, mulling everything over in her mind. But he didn't know how long he could wait before he just burst. He grasped the ring tightly. It was burning.

"Well, at least you can say you've already done it," she shrugged. "Manipulated the temple of time, that is."

He narrowed his eyes.

"That's what you want, isn't it? You told me yesterday you wanted to 'manipulate' it. But you've already done that."

"I don't understand."

"Ha, why would you?"

It had only been a few minutes, but the entire bowl was empty. It almost made him smile. She pulled out her pipe and lit it before continuing. Link listened, watched the people walk by, let himself inhale the smoke.

"Just going through the door is manipulation," Tara explained. "Not to mention this whole area here. I have no idea how far back you must have gone—I intend to figure it out, of course, but the point is that you've already traveled to the past and you've already manipulated the temple."

"I need to go further."

"How do you mean?"

"I want to travel back."

"Are you even listening to me? You _have_."

"Outside of the temple."

"You're even crazier than I thought, Mr. Hero."

"Don't act like it's impossible."

"I don't _know_ if it is or not," she cried.

"What do you know about the temple that a book in the castle library can't tell me?" he raised his eyebrows.

Tara scoffed and sucked on her pipe. Now he was determined to get answers, because he could see her hiding them behind the glimmer in her eyes. After all he'd been through, Link had almost perfected the art of reading people. And Tara was like an open book for him. He lifted his finger and let it fall onto the map, in the very center. Then he repeated his question.

"What do you know about this place?"

Beneath his scrutinizing gaze, the ferocity in his voice, the way he was leaning forward on the edge of desperation, Tara finally squirmed. Something—uncertainty, doubt, sadness, fear—flashed across her face. He wasn't exactly sure what it was. But it was something. He had made her uncomfortable and she couldn't sit still. Then, slowly, she began shaking her head as streams of smoke shot out from her nostrils.

"More than any sane person should know," she replied. "Let me tell you the most important thing."

As she leaned forward, she grabbed his collar in one hand and pulled him down, so that he could feel her whispers. His skin began to crawl.

"There's more to this temple than even you know. It will drag you in, rip you apart, spit you back out and laugh in your mangled, unrecognizable face."

"I've already been through that."

"No. No, you haven't."

She paused.

"There's a reason I keep my studies to myself," Tara breathed. Then, she smiled, and his heart skipped a beat in pure fear. "If I told people about the secrets hidden in the Temple of Time, nobody would believe me."

"Tell me."

"First, you tell me."

Finally, she let go of his collar, and his felt as if he could breathe again. She glanced up at the sky once more.

"Tell me about what you saw in the temple."

"That would take a very long time."

"Do you want my help or not?"

They stared at each other evenly, challengingly.

"Fine."

And then, Link told Tara the story of what he had experienced in the Temple of Time. From conversations with strange statues, to crushing giant spiders.


	7. Lake of Fire

**Enjoy chapter seven :)**

* * *

Chapter Seven: Lake of Fire

The entire time that Link was speaking, Tara was writing. She had pulled out a small black notebook and was writing at the speed of light—occasionally, she would reach over and write something directly on his map. But she never said a single word, not once through his story. And when she looked up into his eyes, nodding, he would feel the urge to continue. He included even more details than he had been planning. But everything just flowed out, uncontrollably, until he felt as if he were actually there again, facing the large, eerie statues that sometimes haunted his dreams.

Nobody had ever listened to Link tell his stories the way that Tara listened. With such attention, such intensity.

Nobody except for Zelda.

"And that was that," he finished. Then he took a deep, cleansing breath.

"Sounds like quite the adventure."

"Yeah, well, that's my life."

She had already relit her pipe twice, and the sun had begun to set. People had cycled in and out of the café, but the two of them had stayed at the same exact table, like fixtures. But when he was done, he felt lighter somehow. More relaxed. His headache had subsided a little bit. When he looked across the table, he could see that Tara's fingers were red from writing.

"I find it hilarious," she said.

"My life? Yup."

"No, not that," she smirked. "I find it hilarious that throughout the entire story, you never said the word 'scared' once."

He blinked, confused. That was not what he had been expecting her to say.

"You were paying that much attention?"

"Of course. And I was waiting for you to say it. Plain and simple, 'I was scared.' But you never did."

Link, suddenly horribly self-conscious, crossed his arms and looked anywhere but into her eyes.

"Were you?" she urged.

"Was I what."

"Scared?"

He paused. For the millionth time in his conversation with her, he didn't know how to respond. The feeling of being caught off-guard was one he desperately tried to avoid at all costs, yet here he was. Experiencing it much too often at the hands of a woman he had only met yesterday.

"Come on, even the chosen hero has to get scared sometimes," she snickered. "I mean, you're scared of me, aren't you?"

"You're worse than any monster I've ever seen."

"I'll take that as a compliment, luckily for you."

"I...can't really remember if I was scared."

Tara began to laugh. But he didn't know what was so funny. Whatever it was, she seemed to think it was absolutely hilarious.

"You're such a character! You can't _remember_? What kind of bullshit is that?"

And, yet again, Link found it useless trying to respond. So he just stared.

"Memories are fickle things, everybody knows that. Time erases them. But emotions...I mean, time is stronger than most things, but not emotions. We remember our emotions no matter how much time has passed," she sighed, catching her breath. "Of that I am one hundred percent certain."

She offered him her pipe, and at that point, he took it without hesitation.

"So don't try to tell me that you don't remember. It's not a question of remembering. It's a question of wanting to recall."

As he inhaled the smoke, let it fill his body with its toxins, and then released them, he felt the strange urge to cry. She was watching him with her chin resting on her hands, her violet strands of hair blowing in the breeze, appearing for a moment as if she was actually invested. Then she raised her eyebrows. There were words sitting on his lips, reaching outward, desperate to come out and come alive. Pleading. And when he opened his mouth to take another drag, they flowed.

"Sometimes, I was so scared that I couldn't breathe."

* * *

At the Royal Council meeting that evening, Link could think of nothing but the Temple of Time. People were speaking, asking him questions, and he was responding absentmindedly. Their words were flowing in one ear and out the other—there was already too much between them. He stared at the etchings on the table, fiddled with his ring as he always did, regardless of the situation, and he thought of everything Tara had told him. Of the information he had gleaned from the books in the library. Of the little hope he had left, the next step he was going to take. What was going to happen next. The pain that had revisited him this morning and now left him in a state of perpetual paranoia. Her voice, echoing hauntingly in his ears, condemning him for not accepting her sacrifice.

_How can I? _

_ I made a promise. _

After the meeting was over, all of the members cleared out. All of the members except for three, who stayed still in their seats and watched him. He hardly noticed, until they began speaking to him.

"Link, you seem distant," Shad said.

"Do I?"

"Even more so than usual."

"You're not still thinking about that temple, are you?" Ashei sighed. "You have bigger things to worry about, yeah? Your knighting is in seven days."

He was hardly counting the days anymore. They were all blurring together. Seven days, seven months, seven years—what did it matter?

"The pain came back this morning," he blurted. Then he felt the three of them tense. "It was even worse than I remember."

"Link it would be wise to—" Auru began, but he was interrupted. Link pushed his chair back, let it squeak against the floor, and stood up. His fingers were itching again and the ring was burning again. He hated having to explain everything to them over and over. It was obvious that they would never understand.

"I'm going to bed. Tara is coming early tomorrow morning."

"Tara?! Coming here? To the castle?" Shad cried, jumping up. "W-why?" Auru raised his eyebrows, and Ashei began grumbling to herself. Not drunk, but still bitter.

"To help me."

"You...you actually managed to convince her?"

"Yes."

"Good gods."

"She wants to look at my sword."

Shad, smiling and mumbling nervously, wiped the sweat from his brow. He was going into one of his states.

"W-what could you _possibly_ hope to gain from this, old boy? I-I-I don't understand..."

Ashei reached up and grabbed his hand, squeezed it. Link had to look away.

"I'm afraid Shad's right, Link," Auru nodded. "You have a country, a people to worry about. That should be your priority. Here and now."

"It is my priority."

"Then stop this nonsense!" Shad cried. "We—you've been hurt badly enough already. Princess Zelda wouldn't want this."

Link felt the rage descend on him faster than he could control. He narrowed his eyes, clenched his fists, and could see nothing but red. He was ready to jump across the table and wrap his fingers around Shad's neck.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me what she would have wanted," he hissed. "You don't understand anything."

"Neither do you!"

"I understand more than you ever will, you bastard."

"Link, calm down." Auru stood up and walked, slowly and deliberately, to Link's side. He tried to put his hand on his shoulder, but Link pushed him away and turned his back. "You know that Shad only means well. All of us mean well."

"Then for the love of Din, leave me alone."

He stormed out, knowing full well what would happen the next day. They would come together, he would apologize, they would forgive. But they wouldn't forget. They would try again. And again. And again. And he would try not to go crazy.

* * *

She didn't come to his dreams that night. Someone else came to him, instead. Someone completely hidden in shadow.

He was sitting in the middle of a lake, but the lake was made of fire. There was no burning sensation in his skin, and it was just as pale as always. As if the fire were dancing with him, crackling and embracing him with its warm arms. He was floating in fire, and he felt content. There was nothing around him, nothing above him, no matter where he looked. It was only the lake of fire. He was smiling, because at that moment, he could remember absolutely nothing. He didn't even know his own name.

Suddenly, the trance was broken. A shadow appeared from nowhere, hidden in the darkness in front of him. It was a man. The man was standing on top of the flames, and everything surrounding him was completely bright. Except for the exact spot in which he stood. Link could only make out his silhouette. Then all of his contentment disappeared to make room for the raw, unrestrained fear that flowed from the man. Straight into Link's heart. He tried to move away, but he was stuck in his nest of fire. The silhouette took a step forward, hovering above the flames that licked his feet.

"Time."

The man's voice was gargled, muffled, yet horribly clear in Link's ears. He said that one word, and then he reached his arm out. Hanging from his obscured fingers was a shimmering, green pocket watch. It swung back and forth in perfectly even rhythm, in unison with the ticking of its hands. That ticking sound was so loud, so obtrusive, so indescribably horrible, that Link tried to cover his ears. But no matter how hard he tried, he could hear the ticking. And then he realized that the fire was beginning to grow hot, and his skin was burning.

"Time."

The man held out that pocket watch and it continued to swing back and forth. As green as grass. Louder than anything Link had ever heard before. He tried to scream, but he had been rendered silent. The flames were now attacking him, ripping him apart. He had never felt such pain in his life.

"Time is alive."

Then, as if the pain had never been there, it was gone. The pocket watch continued to swing, but it became silent. Link was able to breathe again, feel relieved by the coolness of the flames engulfing him. The man took another step forward. He said one last thing.

"Time is like a tempest."

The pain and the ticking and the burning flames returned, more strongly than ever, for a split second. Raging like the most horrible storm, making him writhe, making him wish that he were dead.

Then Link's eyes opened, he sat up in bed drenched with sweat, and he felt tears on his cheeks.

* * *

He had been pacing for at least an hour. Back and forth, back and forth. To the window, where he would look out at the bustling city. To the center, where he would see his own slumped figure in the mirror. To the door, where he could hear the activity in the halls. Back to the center. Back to the window. Back and forth. He had taken off his tunic, his boots, his headband. They made him feel too hot. And he avoided the spots in his room that were bathing in sunlight because the sun made him feel hot, too. Much, much too hot. And he had taken the one clock usually adorning his wall and thrown it into one of the drawers on his dresser. He didn't care what time it was. He didn't need to know. He didn't want to know. He wondered how long it would be before he stopped sweating.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he called without looking up.

The young boy, the one from the other day—Ladan was his name—opened the door, stood as straight as an arrow, and gave a salute.

"Master Link! You have a visitor."

Before Link could say anything, Tara pushed past the boy and into the room, the pipe hanging from her lips. The young soldier's cheeks were bright red and he was staring after her with wide, twinkling eyes. And she seemed to know it.

"Thank you, Ladan. You may go."

"Sir!"

Luckily, the boy was able to close the door before he began drooling. Link was left alone with Tara. She was wearing green that day, with a black bag slung over her shoulder. When he looked at the color of her blouse, he was suddenly reminded of the pocket watch from his dream, and he turned away. Like a reflex.

"Nice place you got here, pretty boy."

He started pacing again. The atmosphere, which had already been stressful enough, was suddenly intoxicating. He ran his hands along his face, tried to erase the images of his nightmare.

"Hey, are you all right? You seem even more high-strung than usual."

"I'm fine."

"Great. Can I see the sword?"

"It's on the table."

As he continued walking, back and forth, Tara dropped her bag on the table in the corner of the room and took a seat. He had left the Master Sword in its sheath, the purple handle sparkling in the sunlight. Gently, Tara reached forward and wrapped her fingers around the hilt. Her smile grew brighter. After a few moments, she pulled out her notebook and began scribbling again. Link tried to go and stand beside her, but he was too restless. He couldn't stand in one spot for too long. He needed to keep moving. At that point, it was as if Tara didn't even notice him. She grabbed the hilt again and pulled the sword from its sheath. The sound of the blade meeting with the air once more, after having been idle for so long, was like music to him. It was the first time he'd wanted to wield his sword in weeks.

"What a beautiful weapon," she breathed.

She had to grab the hilt with both hands to keep the blade steady. Without moving a muscle, she just held it there for a couple of moments. Watched the colors of her reflection play on the blade. Even though her back was to him, he saw her wide eyes in the blade of the sword. Wide and entranced. She lay the sword back on the table and ran her finger along the blade, slowly, deliberately. As if she were petting it. More scribbles.

"Hey, Mr. Hero. Did you ever notice this inscription here on your sword?"

"Yes. But I can't read Ancient Hylian."

"Well. I can."

Link was finally able to bring himself to stop moving. He watched her bring her face so close to the blade that her breath fogged up the surface. Her hair fell along the wood of the table, her fingers grasped the edge almost desperately. And the whole time, smoke puffed out from her nostrils. He considered cracking open a window, but then thought better of it. He enjoyed the smell of the smoke. With a satisfied breath, Tara lifted her face and scribbled once more in her notebook.

"What does it say?" he asked. He hadn't realized it, but his voice was at a whisper. She turned over her shoulder so that she could look into his eyes.

"It says, 'Blade of the true hero, pure of heart and strong of body.'"

"Are you lying?"

"Why would I lie about something like that?"

Link fell back onto his bed and put his hands behind his head. The room fell into silence once more. He stared vacantly at the ceiling while she sat at his table, examining every inch of the sword, writing notes, glowing with passion. Link found himself thinking about the next time he was going to see Shad. Perhaps that afternoon he would visit Telma's bar. To tell Shad that he was sorry.

"Link," she finally said, "tell me how this works. At the temple."

"If you go to the forest surrounding the ruins, there's a pedestal. That's where I found the sword. Zelda...the princess told me where to find it. I put the sword in the pedestal, and then when I open the door, I can step into the temple of the past. The pedestal is there, too. But everything is in the past. If I put the sword back in, a staircase appears and leads me to the rest of the temple."

"It's like a key."

"Yeah."

"I knew it existed. I knew there was a sword used to operate the temple. Otherwise, why would there be a pedestal there? I just never guessed that Hyrule's blessed savior would have it."

Link sat straight up, leaned his elbows on his knees, stared at her.

"Wait."

"What?"

"How could you _possibly_ know that?"

"I told you," she sighed. "I know more about this temple than any sane person should."

Link shook his head. Watching her, listening to her, suddenly gave him a horribly eerie feeling. Like he was being watched.

Nobody could have known that. Not even a scholar of the temple.

Not unless they had been inside.

"There's no way for you to know that," he urged. "Not unless you've—"

"Not unless I've what?" she challenged.

He wasn't sure why, but all of a sudden, he felt like he was back in a nightmare.

"It wasn't in any of the books," he said.

"It doesn't have to be."

"You're making me nervous."

"It wouldn't be the first time, right?"

"I'm serious!" he cried. Tara jumped back at his outburst. "Tell me how you know about the pedestal. Now."

She lost a little bit of the glow that she had had. Her face fell into a state of ghostly white despondency. The grip of her fingers on the edge of the table became so tight that he saw her nails leaving marks.

"The Temple of Time is a machine, wouldn't you agree?" she began.

"A machine?"

"Yes. It has gears, and those gears shift so that it can do its job."

"I suppose."

"But it's a dangerous machine. One that needs to be locked, or else it will go berserk. Right?"

"...Sure."

"The pedestal is the lock. Your sword is the key."

"You didn't answer my question. How do you _know_ that the pedestal even exists?"

"Every machine has its lock and key. It's simple."

"Tara. This time, I think you're the one not understanding _me_."

Link stood up and made his way to where she sat. He put his hands on the chair, brought his face close, narrowed his eyes. He was determined to pry answers from her, even if the prospect of answers frightened him. He needed them.

"The pedestal isn't like the rest of the ruins. It's hidden, and the only living person who knows how to get to it is me. So tell me." He brought his face even closer. "How do you even know that it exists?"

Instead of shrinking away like he hoped she would, Tara stood from the chair and matched his gaze. When he glanced down, he saw that her fists were clenched.

"I'm not obligated to tell you anything. Don't forget, you're the one who needs _my_ help. How I know what I know is my own business."

"How am I supposed to trust you," he hissed.

"That's your problem. I don't _care_ if you trust me or not."

She placed her hands on his bare chest, pushed him back, and walked out. Leaving him frustrated, breathless, and utterly confused.


	8. Socialite

**I'm actually in love with Shad. **

**Why don't they include him in more games?**

**PETITION.**

* * *

Chapter Eight: Socialite

When Tara finally walked back into her apartment, she made sure to slam the door behind her. She needed the complete darkness for a couple moments, to clear her head and steady her shaking hands. She stood, feeling as if the ground were quaking beneath her feet, tried to forget about what had just happened. Finally, after an eternity standing on her trembling legs, she leaped into action. As quickly as possible, she lit a match and put it to the candles on her desks, and then her pipe in turn. The room retreated back into its soft orange glow as white sunlight attempted to break through the cracked shutters. Tara took comfort in the minimal light, the oozing warmth of the candles, the books, the equations she had spent so much time developing and etching into her walls. She had always taken comfort in strange things.

Tara walked to the very center of the room, kicked away the papers, took off her necklaces and pants—they were much too uncomfortable—and sat down on the floor. Then she pulled the hair ties from her braid and let her purple, wavy hair fall all around her. It was so long that it piled on itself on the floor. She had decided from a very young age that she was never going to cut it. It would be like trying to tame a beast. And besides. Her hair was awfully pretty. She knew it. Crossing her legs and breathing in the musty air, Tara took out her notebook and began flipping through. Work always distracted her from the stupid things happening in her life.

Stupid things like Link.

She could hardly admit it to herself, let alone to him, but it was true. He had caught her off-guard, made her paranoid about everything. Evidently, he was smarter than he looked. Somehow...he had seen right through her. Read her like a book. It made her unabashedly furious. She took a deep, cleansing smoke, let the fog surround her, and began trying to figure out the Master Sword. An anomaly like that would surely distract her.

_A key. To unlock the heart of the machine. Make it work, make it tick._

She had so much research about keys, about machines, about time itself. But the Master Sword didn't fit any of her equations. The longer she thought about it, the more tempted she was to rip that gorgeous purple hair from her scalp.

Then, her haven of smoke and frustration and potential discovery was interrupted by a knock on the door.

_I have interacted too much with society this week. _

"Go away. I'm busy."

"It's me."

Hearing that voice, now of all times, surprised her.

"Well, 'Me,' I already told you. I'm busy."

"I'm not leaving until you let me in."

"All right, have fun out there."

"Tara!"

There was desperation. Loud, awful desperation. Tara twisted her single red lock of hair around her finger.

"It's open."

Slowly, the door creaked open, and a familiar face stepped into the light of the flames.

"Hello, Tara."

"Hi, Shad."

As soon as the door was closed, while he looked around the room with a bewildered expression, he fell into a fit of coughing. Tara just sat in her spot, watching, continuing to contaminate the air with the smoke.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, Shadsie?"

"I see you still take part in this dastardly habit," he managed through his coughs.

Tara shrugged, leaned back on her hands, and stretched her legs out, letting the pipe dangle. Shad stared down at her while he covered his mouth with his sleeve. He looked just as mousy, just as scholarly, just as nervous and fidgety, as he did when she last saw him.

"I need _something_ to keep me sane, don't you agree?"

"There are chocolate wrappers everywhere."

"You can thank your friend for that."

"It's a wonder you're not 500 pounds."

She smirked. Their witty banter had always amused her; there was never a dull moment when they were in a room together. Tara hated to think about it, but she had missed him. Seeing him was a breath of fresh air—even though _she_ had been the one to push him away. The one who always pushed everyone away. He began walking around the room, stepping over her papers with his fancy shoes and checkered socks and clever little coat.

"I also see you still enjoy this energy-sucking darkness," he sighed.

"Energy-sucking for you, thought-inducing for me."

"Well, it's certainly no wonder you're so crabby all the time."

Before she could stop him, he rushed to the other side of the room and threw open the shutters. Tara flinched back at the sunlight, too bright and too abrasive, that flooded into the room. He forced the window, which had practically been glued shut, to open, letting in a breeze that made Tara want to crawl into bed and pull the covers forever over her body. But, of course, she was much too lazy to get up and stop him. Breathing in the air, he continued around the room, putting out all of the candles. The room was suddenly bright and airy, and all of the dust and dirt and horrible things were out there for the world to see. It made her sick.

"It's the middle of the day, for Farore's sake," he said. She thought she saw a smile on his lips.

"I'm aware what time of day it is, thank you," she grumbled.

He finally stopped moving and stood in one spot, his arms crossed with that notebook and dagger he always carried. He looked down at her silently for a few moments, and she stared right back up, still squinting. Then, his smile grew larger and his expression softened.

"It's good to see you again, Tara."

She couldn't help but smile back.

"You too, Shadsie."

"You're still as gorgeous and grouchy as ever, I see."

"And you're still as charming and awkward as ever."

"Can I ask a quick question, though?"

"Sure."

Suddenly his cheeks grew bright red and he started fidgeting, in the way that he did whenever he was nervous. It was enough to make her laugh every single time.

"Why aren't you...ahem...wearing pants?"

Tara blinked.

"Oh, well. I wasn't expecting company, and they were uncomfortable."

Shad just stood there, looking as if he had just swallowed a lemon whole. She snickered, crossed one leg deliberately over the other, blew smoke in his direction.

"Besides, it's not like it's the first time you've seen me without pants."

He opened his mouth, determined to respond, but then took on a resigned expression and resumed his fidgety position.

"Fair enough."

"Now, I take it you didn't come just because you miss me, right babe?"

"Well...no."

"Actually, I hear you're hanging around that girl, right? The one who likes snow and talks like a man?"

"Tara!" Shad cried, but she saw him hiding his amused grin. "Ashei is beautiful. And you talk in a fairly masculine manner yourself."

"Eh, I never pegged you with her, but I suppose she can't do better."

Tara winked and lay down on her back. Her arms were hurting.

"So, what do you want?"

"I want to talk to you about Link."

"Oh, Mr. Hero."

"Uh, yes. Mr. Hero."

A tense silence followed and she could hear through the floorboards that he was shifting his position even more than usual. In fact, the entire atmosphere of the room had grown more tense. Shad was extremely nervous about something, she could tell. But out of everything she didn't want to talk about, Link was one of them. The events of that morning were still fresh and stinging in her mind. The only reason she was forcing herself to put with him was because he had made a promise to show her the temple—and if she saw the temple, she might be able to figure everything out. All of her problems could be solved.

"I'd prefer not to."

"We need to talk about him."

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious."

She kept her eyes on the ceiling, but patted the ground beside her.

"Come lay next to me."

"W-what?"

"Come on, don't by shy. You can just push the papers away. It's fine. I want you to come lay next to me."

Tara patted the floor again, so hard that dust came up. There was another minute of silence, of her staring blankly upwards and smoking, before Shad finally put his notebook on the ground and sat down beside her.

"I didn't say sit down, I said _lay_ down," she urged. She liked to be on similar levels when speaking to people of similar intellect, but she was not about to stand up.

"Fine, fine, fine."

He was so awkward it made her want to hug him. Everything he did—utterly and adorably awkward. It was one of the things that had first made her want to befriend him. Finally, he was laying next to her, staring at the ceiling with her, still as much of a nervous-wreck as ever.

"Doesn't that feel good?" she breathed.

"It's...fine, I suppose."

"Just say it feels good. Humor me."

"It feels good."

"All right. Now, what do you want to know about pretty boy hero?"

"Well, I'll start at the bottom. What does he want?"

"To know about the Temple of Time. You should know that, you're the one who told him about me."

"What does he want to know about it?"

Tara chuckled to herself and began shaking her head.

"He wants to know how to manipulate it. How to use it to essentially travel back to a Hyrule of the past."

"Tara."

"Yes?"

"Why did you agree to help him?"

She turned her face to look at him, and saw that he was staring right back. She couldn't even remember the last time she had seen his eyes looking so grave, so serious behind those glasses. It made her feel serious, too. Shad was one of the only people that Tara didn't like to lie to.

"He told me he would show me the temple."

"You've seen the temple."

"The _real_ temple, Shad. Not the ruins. The actual temple."

He furrowed his brow, as if the idea was not sinking in.

"Tara—"

"I know it's dangerous, okay? I know it's a bad idea to help him. But I need this, Shad. You know how much this means to me."

"...I know," he sighed. Then he turned away and looked at the ceiling.

"I understand why you're worried, though."

"I don't actually think you do."

"He's messing with something unbelievably dangerous. Out of every person in this entire kingdom, I know that better than anyone."

"You should know what he's trying to do."

"Oh, and I suppose you can tell me?"

"Yes. I can."

She turned her eyes back to the ceiling, too. It suddenly felt as if a dark, rainy cloud had passed above them. Even in the sunlight, with the breeze. Her skin was crawling and her heart was pounding. Shad was truly serious.

"What is he trying to do? Beside travel to the past?"

"He's..."

Another tense silence.

"_Shad!_"

"He's trying to change the past," he sighed. "He's trying to bring someone back to life."

Tara's heart stopped.

She sat straight up, looked at Shad, and tried to breathe again.

"Goddammit, Shad," she hissed, "what the hell have I gotten myself into?"

He laughed a dry, cold laugh.

"I don't know, my dearest. You tell me."

As she buried her face in her hands, wishing that she had actually realized how stupid she had been (more importantly, how stupid Link was), Shad began playing with the ends of her hair. It had always been a restless habit of his. Playing with her hair when he felt nervous.

"Do you understand now why I'm here?" he whispered.

Slowly, she nodded. Then she lay back down and dug her nails into the floorboards to keep herself from screaming.

"To stop me from helping him."

"Yes."

Her head was reeling. Everything that she had been planning fell to ruin and she felt as if she had been thrown, unceremoniously, back to square one.

"He said something to me the other day. I told him that there was no point in trying to change the world again. He had already done it."

She paused, just felt Shad playing with her hair for a couple moments.

"And then he said, 'This is more important than the world.'"

"Tara, I don't think he'll stop trying. In all of his life, he won't stop trying. But you're the only person who could possibly help him succeed."

"And I'm the only person who could possibly keep him from succeeding."

"Exactly."

Tara's grasp on her life was slipping from her fingers. Everything was piling up and she felt as if she were suffocating. Her world was crumbling, back to where it had started.

"But..."

"But what?" he asked.

She took as deep a smoke as she possibly could.

"He's going to show me the temple."

"Are you telling me that you still intend on helping him?"

Shad sat up and brought his face over hers, so that he could look in her eyes. She blew upwards to cover his face and smoke. She didn't want to see that expression.

"Are you absolutely insane? Even after everything I've told you?" he cried. He was getting worked up. She could see.

"Are you just now realizing that I'm insane? Come on. You've known me long enough."

"Y-y-you can't possibly—"

"I'll trick him."

He stared at her. Dumbfounded. She reached up and adjusted his glasses for him.

"If he's as moral as everyone says, he won't go back on his word," she continued. "He'll show me the temple. I can trick him into thinking I'll help him, and then..."

"You're joking."

"I need to see the temple."

"You're willing to do that to someone?"

"Hey, nobody ever said that I was moral."

Shad just continued to stare, as if she were speaking a completely different language.

"Besides, I don't even know if I can help him. This shit is complicated. Nothing I've ever seen. At this point, it pretty much seems like it's impossible to do what he's trying to do."

"So tell him that!"

"I tried! He's determined, that one."

"...I know he is."

"So if he's going to do it anyway," she smiled, raising her eyebrows, "I might as well tag along. Don't you think?"

"I think you mean, string him along."

"You say tomato, I say tomato."

"I don't like the idea of you tricking him."

"You don't have to, darlin'."

"Can't you try deterring him? Telling him it's absolutely not possible?"

"I don't know if it is yet."

"Well, tell him it's not!"

"That's the same as trickery."

"I daresay it is _not_."

"You want me to risk losing my opportunity to see the temple? Please."

At that, Shad frowned. He stared at her as if he were an angry father reprimanding his misbehaving daughter.

"I don't recall you being this selfish."

Fire rose up inside of Tara's chest and she was seeing red. The pipe dropped from her lips as she clenched her teeth, reached up, and grabbed his collar in her shaky fingers. She pulled him down until his forehead was against hers, so that he could see how furious her eyes were. So he could feel how unbelievably enraged she was.

"How _dare_ you."

His glasses fell forward, and she could see the glint of fear in his eyes.

"You have the nerve to come here, ask for my help, and call me selfish? You son of a bitch."

"Because this isn't just about your desire to see the temple!" he replied. But he was stammering. "This is about the fate of the world itself. You know how dangerous messing with time is."

"You're right, it's _not_ just about my desire to see the temple," she hissed. "You know that it's not! How can you even say this to me?"

"I—"

"I'm not a goddamn scientist because I want to discover things and keep them to my goddamn self!" Her voice was rising. "I'm a scientist because I want to _explain_ the world. And people need the goddamn world explained to them."

"You have ulterior motives."

At that, Tara could not control herself. She shoved him back, so hard that he landed with a thump a few feet away. Then she stood up and began screaming.

"Yes! I do! And so do you! Don't even try to pull this card on me, you bastard. Are you trying to tell me, honestly, that you are interested in the sky because oh, look, it's so pretty! _Of course not_. You're interested in the sky because your goddamn father was interested in the sky. And he wasn't able to figure it out."

"...Yes. But I'm not risking the entire world with my research! I'm not letting my own motives put everything in danger!"

"I am this close, Shad. This close to lighting you on fire."

"Please, Tara. Try to understand—"

"Look," she interrupted. She was rubbing her temples, trying to control herself, taking deep breaths. Why had she let her pipe go out? "I can promise you that Link will not do anything to mess with time. I'll make sure of it. But if I don't see that temple, I'll..."

"You'll what?" he challenged.

She grabbed her hair in both hands and began braiding it.

"I'll lose my purpose, my life, my everything."

His face was suddenly sympathetic. She knew that he understood. He understood everything better than anyone. He might have been the only person who could understand anything. He got to his feet, took a few steps forward, and wrapped his arms around her, because he was the only person who could see her breaking.

"I'm doing this for Nia. Just like you're doing it for your father."


	9. Phantom Hand

**WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**

**(I have no comment on this chapter. Except that it's kinda long. Whatevs.)**

* * *

Chapter Nine: Phantom Hand

Link lay in bed that night, writhing, biting his own tongue so that he wouldn't scream. The pain had returned as soon as he had taken a deep breath and prepared for sleep. All day, with bated breath, he had been waiting for it to return. Waiting for it to invade when he least expected it to. And, of course, it did. Right before he closed his eyes and began his prayers for sleep and for dreams of her. He clawed at the spot on his chest where it felt as if the dagger were being twisted, pleaded silently with teary eyes for the goddesses to relieve him of this pain. It was like the weight of the entire world leaning against his chest, making it hard for him to breathe and hard for him to live. He kept telling himself that it would pass soon, he would be okay, this had happened before...

Finally, the pain subsided, and he was left panting in a pool of his own sweat. He stared at the ceiling with a sunken expression, continued to ask the goddesses why they put him through that suffering. After months of being free of it (at least physically), he wondered why it had returned. Link turned onto his side and grasped the pillow with his shaking hands, squeezed it hard, let the sound of his own heavy breathing lull him to sleep. Hoping that she would appear to alleviate the pain, the suffering, the sadness.

She did come to his dreams that night, as beautiful and divine and pure as ever.

They were laying beside each other on a bed with white sheets and white pillows, sitting on a white cloud floating in a white sky. Everything was white, was lovely, was serene. They lay on their sides, facing each other, not touching yet. And for a couple moments, he didn't feel the need to touch her. He only looked into her eyes and felt comfort, felt relief. A soft breeze was blowing, making her cheeks flushed. Finally, he reached his hand out and placed it on her cheek, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, traced the outline of her lips. She smiled, but didn't say a word. Didn't move a muscle because she knew that he didn't need her to. He inched closer, until he could touch his forehead to hers and feel their legs intertwine.

It was then that he noticed something strange. A soft, stinging pain hovering above the surface of his skin. He noticed, suddenly, that there was blood on his fingers and gashes all along his arms. With wide eyes, he looked down at his chest—completely covered in red, gaping scars. Blood seeped from the cuts in his skin, stained the perfect white bed in the perfect white clouds in the perfect white sky. The light in her eyes dimmed a little bit.

"Are you in pain?" she finally said.

"I..." He furrowed his brow, felt tears accumulating on the edges of his eyes. "I don't know."

"I hate to see you in pain, my hero," she sighed. "My love."

She grabbed his hand and squeezed it in hers. He watched, in horror, as the cuts on his hand disappeared. But they reappeared, deeper and redder, on her hands. He opened his mouth, to stop her, to rip his hands away, but he was paralyzed. Forced to feel her relieve him. As the skin of his hand became smooth and pale, she let go and put both of her palms, stained red, against his bare chest. He inhaled sharply as every scar, every drop of blood, disappeared. The tears in his eyes spilled over as the same scars, the same horrible drops of blood, began appearing on her chest instead. The light in her eyes was dimming more and more with each second.

"Please," he whispered. "Please stop."

She shook her head with a smile. That same soft, loving, sacrificial smile.

"I would rather suffer than see you suffer."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her against him, as tightly as he possibly could. He couldn't stand to see her blood replacing his on the tainted sheets of the bed. In the clouds around him. In the very sky itself. When he spoke, when he tried to whisper in her ear, he was screaming instead.

"I can't deal with this," he cried. "I can't bear to see you do this to yourself. I can't—"

"My poor hero..."

"I can't carry this burden that you're giving me. I can't."

Finally, he felt her arms wrapping around his chest and holding him, too.

"It's too heavy of a burden."

"Do you love me?" she asked. He squeezed harder.

"More than anything. More than everything. More than I can ever say."

"Then let me take away your pain. Let me heal you."

"Being healed is crushing me," he said. "I need my pain. I need it."

He felt her tears, salty and sweet and warm and cold all at once, running down his chest.

"But not this pain. Not the pain you're forcing upon me," Link continued. "Not the pain of carrying the entire world on my chest. Not the pain that makes me scream in the middle of the night because there is a dagger in my heart."

He buried his face in her hair, so that he could smell it. Feel it against his skin.

"That's my dagger," she sighed, "isn't it?"

He couldn't respond. So she continued.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just couldn't stand to see you in pain."

"I can't forgive you. Never. You broke your promise."

He realized, too late, that they were laying, holding each other, soaked in her blood.

"Just like I can never forgive myself. Because I broke my promise, too."

* * *

It was only noon, and once again, Link wished that it were socially acceptable to get drunk. But, unfortunately, it wasn't. So he sat at the usual table in the back of the bar, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to ignore the fact that Ashei, Auru, and Shad were looking at him with eyes filled to the brim with pity. That thing he hated most. He had apologized to them, of course, and they had forgiven him. Of course. But he couldn't get the red vision of his dream out of his head. She was there in his mind, apologizing over and over for laying such a heavy burden on him. But it was too late, anyway. The burden was there. It seemed to weigh more and more with every passing day.

"How many days is it until the ceremony?" Auru asked.

Link shrugged, turned his head to the ceiling so that he could breathe more easily.

"The days have all started blurring together for me. I don't know."

"Five days," Shad sighed. "The ceremony is in five days."

"That's five too many if you ask me," Ashei interrupted.

"Well, patience was never one of your virtues, darling."

"Whatever."

"Is the portrait done?" Auru said.

Link shrugged again.

"I think so."

"I bet you look great!" Ashei cried. "Like a real hard-ass."

"Thank you."

He looked at each of their faces for a couple of moments. These were his friends, this was his family, here was the closest thing he had to a home. And yet he felt so lost and so lonely, even as they sat around him smiling and telling him (in one way or another) that they loved him. Auru with his calm, soothing smile and thick beard. Ashei, with her constantly incredulous smirk and piercing eyes. Shad, with his nervous ticks and charming idiosyncrasies. But at that moment...there was something written on his face. Something Link couldn't quite pinpoint. He was anxious, upset, disappointed, nervous about something. Link continued to stare quietly.

"So..." Shad finally said. "Did you see Tara yesterday?"

Of course. Of course he was nervous about that.

"I did."

"Oh."

"She's bad news, Link," Ashei scoffed. "My advice would be to steer clear, yeah?"

"Now, now, sweet pea. Don't let the jealous show too much," Telma chuckled as she brought them their daily bowls of soup.

"I'm not jealous," she huffed, crossing her arms.

"I'm assuming she's just as difficult as ever," Auru smiled.

Link nodded and tried not to think about the chills he got whenever she was around. Chills of pure intimidation.

"She likes time a lot."

"Ugh, she just makes it confusing for everyone else," Ashei added. "Every time I talk to her, I feel like my head's gonna burst."

"When are you going to see her next?" Shad pressed. He seemed completely oblivious to the rest of the conversation, his eyes staring straight ahead while his fingers picked at the edges of his notebook pages.

"I think I'll go see her tomorrow. Try to get some more information."

"She is stubborn, if I remember correctly," Auru nodded.

"Tara certainly has the head of a bull," Shad sighed. "The meanest bull you can think of."

At that moment, Link felt a soft, delicate hand rest on his shoulder. It was warm, and made every single inch of his body tingle with the heat. When he looked at it, the skin was as thin as paper, with a strange orange tint. And the nails were a deep green color, painted almost black. Shimmering in the dim light of the bar. He turned around to face the person who had approached from behind, ask them what they needed, tell them that their hand was very warm.

But there was nobody there.

A chill, unlike anything he had ever felt, ran from his toes all the way up to his neck, where all of his hairs stood up. The hand had disappeared, but he could still feel the remains of its warmth clinging to his shoulder.

"What are you looking at, old boy?"

Link had to remind himself to breathe.

"N-nothing," he stammered. "It's nothing."

"Eat your soup before it gets cold!" Telma cried. "I'm not heating it again, ya hear?"

Everything seemed normal, he thought. Perfectly, wonderfully normal. In five days he would become the ruler of Hyrule. He was surrounded by friends. The soup was delicious. Yet he couldn't get Zelda's voice out of his head. And now, he couldn't get the eerie feeling of that phantom hand, sitting like the hand of an old friend, off his shoulder.

_I'm going crazy,_ he thought. _I'm finally going crazy._

* * *

The middle of the night, candles lit, rain falling outside and smoke in the air. A situation that guaranteed no disturbances. The perfect atmosphere for trying to figure out a new equation—or make sense of old equations. So Tara thought as she lay on her stomach, in the center of her room, scribbling on paper and after paper, occasionally pausing to etch something in the wooden planks of the floor. She was surrounded by the papers, along with photographs that she had felt the need to pull from the walls and lay around her. They made her feel a little bit calmer, a little bit more justified in what she was prepared to do. She couldn't get Shad's words out of her head, as hard as she tried to tell herself that they didn't matter.

_I don't recall you being this selfish. _

The condemnation, the reprimanding, echoed in her head endlessly. It made her want to drop a candle and set the entire world on fire.

"I'm not selfish," she mumbled to herself, chewing on the end of her quill. "I'm not selfish."

He had apologized, and he had told her that he was wrong.

But it still hurt that he had said it.

Mostly because she genuinely worried that it was true.

"I'm doing this because I have to. It's...it's the right thing to do. I've lied before. To get what I want. Why should I stop now?"

_I don't recall you being this selfish. _

_ You have ulterior motives. _

_ Yes! I do!_

She wanted so badly for those self-destructive thoughts to just stop. If she wanted to figure out this key, this lock, the mathematical and scientific workings of this machine they called time, she needed a clear head. But she had deceived herself when she said that candles would help. That darkness would help. That a good smoke and a couple pounds of chocolate would help. That surrounding herself with memories of the past would help.

Nothing could help. Nothing could ever help, and nothing would ever help.

Suddenly, just like a nightmare repeating itself, there was a knock on the door.

But this knock was different. It wasn't soft, pleading, hopeful.

It was loud, demanding, filled with rage.

But regardless, Tara was not willing to deal with it.

"Go away."

"No."

_Not him. _

"It's three in the morning! Leave before I call the guard on you!"

"Don't make me laugh. I _am_ the guard."

"You asshole. Leave."

"I can break the door down if I have to."

She bit down on her pipe so hard that it made her teeth hurt. The tension in his voice was higher than she had ever heard it, and when he knocked on the door again, the sound struck her core. It was almost frightening. Of course, Tara was not one to be easily frightened. Each step more angry than the next, she stood up and made her way to the door. When she opened it, she thought for a moment that she was staring into the gaunt eyes of a ghost, long abandoned in that place between earth and heaven.

He was soaked to the bone, his hair stuck to the sides of his face, panting as if he had just sprinted mile upon mile. His entire body shook with each breath, to the point that she found it hard to breathe, as well (although that could have just as easily been the smoke in her lungs). The scars on his face and his shaking hands were more pronounced, his wet clothes stuck like glue to his skin. When she glanced down, she saw a bag hanging over his shoulder and his sword, the Master Sword, the key to everything, slung onto his back.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "And why do you look like such a mess?"

He didn't respond. He simply stood, haunted and with the look of a storm.

"It's the middle of the night! Why don't you just go home to your castle and your warm blankets and your maids and come back tomorrow, all right?"

"No. We need to go now."

"Excuse me?"

"To the temple. Right now."

Tara just stared, her utter surprise overtaking the power of her voice.

"If we leave now, we can make it there within the next three days."

"Wait—"

"I need to be there as soon as possible."

"Link—"

"So we need to leave now."

"STOP!"

She raised her hands and finally found her voice, and found it angry.

"Listen, I'm not just going to pack up my bags and leave because you said so. Who the hell do you think you are?"

He was not shaken. Well, he was not any more shaken than he had been before.

"Someone who desperately needs this," he murmured. "Someone who can't stand the nightmares anymore. Someone who feels completely empty."

Link's answer took Tara by surprise. She hadn't been expecting him to say something so dramatic, so serious, so horribly sad. Even in the darkness, as she listened to the pouring rain against her window and his heavy breathing, she saw the expression in his eyes. She had seen that expression before, too many times. She had seen it before in her own eyes.

_I can't believe I'm doing this._

"Come inside."

"But—"

"Come in before I change my mind."

She stepped to the side as he walked into her haven, bringing with him all the grief in the world, and then she closed the door.

"Sit down wherever you want."

She resumed her position on the ground, in the center of the room, while he cautiously took a seat in one of her old, rotting chairs. But he was restless, his legs were jittery, and his eyes darted around the room, waiting for something to pop out at him. After a few moments of silence, while she stared at him in bewilderment, he jumped and turned around. As if he were expecting to see someone standing behind him.

"What's the matter with you?" she sighed.

Link buried his face in his hands, but never stopped fidgeting. Perhaps in fear, perhaps in anxiety. But there was something.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I can't take this anymore."

"You can't take what anymore?"

"I..."

His voice trailed off, and he looked at her, in distrust. It almost made her laugh. It was beginning to amuse her, how similar the two of them really were. She couldn't count how many times she had given others that same look.

"It helps to talk it out," she smirked, "trust me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Whatever is bothering you is really, really bothering you. I can tell."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Having someone else know what's eating at your heart helps," she shrugged.

Then she questioned why she was even bothering to tell him this. She shouldn't have cared about what was eating at his heart. Perhaps it was because she could relate too well.

_Maybe I am selfish. _

"Can I ask you a question, Tara?" he said. His voice was trembling. Like a tsunami ready to destroy a city.

"Sure."

"Have you...have you ever loved somebody so much that you shake? So much that when you dream, even when you dream about such a perfect love, you cry?"

She began to braid her hair, because that question made her nervous.

"I don't know."

"You can't not know."

"Then no."

"I can see it in your eyes," he whispered. "You're lying."

"So what?"

"That's what's eating at my heart," he breathed. "A terrible love that I can't escape. A burden that's so heavy..."

"...it crushes you."

As she instinctively finished his sentence for him, staring vacantly at the ground, he froze. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes and nodded his head.

"Yeah. It crushes you."

The rain seemed to be getting stronger, pounding on her window pane. Screaming at her, just like he had been screaming at her when he'd knocked on her door.

"Going now, going later," she said. "It won't make a difference. Nothing you do is going to work. You should let this go—let whoever you're holding onto go."

"You said yourself. You don't know if it's possible."

"If it is, it's dangerous. It could kill you."

"I need to try. I've spent so much time thinking about it, wasting away over it."

"It could destroy everything."

"I need to try."

Tara thought back to what she had told Shad as she sat and watched the expression on Link's face grow more and more determined with each moment she attempted to deter him.

_I'll trick him._

"All right."

His eyes widened.

"Y-you mean you'll come?"

"Yeah. I wanna see the temple."

He looked even more relieved than she had expected him to look. It almost made her feel guilty.

Almost.

"Maybe we can figure this shit out once we get there," she groaned, gesturing toward her scattered papers.

"Maybe," he replied. "Maybe."


	10. Mah Boi

**So the thing is, I was in the middle of writing this long and fairly depressing story, and I needed some comic relief. **

**...And that's where this chapter title came from. **

**So yeah.**

**Sowwy.**

**If you don't understand the reference:**

** watch?v=7LT2qoAHl7M**

* * *

Chapter Ten: Mah Boi

Link and Tara walked side by side down the dark, wet, empty streets of Castle Town. Their only company were the lonely cats and desperate droplets of rain that reached down toward the ground. But even in the desolate atmosphere and the virtual silence, Link's headache was splitting. He could hardly see through the blur of his floundering mind, struggled to make sense of the thoughts and images flashing behind his eyelids. The only thought of which he was truly aware, the only emotion that he could really feel, was his determination to go back to the temple. His one goal, what he had been working toward for months now, could wait no longer. His dreams were becoming too terrible, and ever since that hand—belonging to somebody and yet belonging to nobody—had rested on his shoulder earlier that day, he knew. That same hand had been brushing his arm, squeezing his fingers, stroking his cheek, all day. He needed to act now. It was finally time.

He needed to bring her back.

When Link glanced over at his companion, he saw something strange. There was a spring in her step, a lightness in her breathing, a soft glow emanating from her rainy silhouette. But even as she bounced forward and breathed and glowed, he noticed something about her that he hadn't noticed before. Something that had to have been there, but he just hadn't realized. There was something heavy resting on her shoulders, weighing her down. Just as there was something heavy resting on his shoulders, weighing him down. The difference was that he let it show much more easily than she did.

After Tara had agreed to join him, she had been a storm. Within moments, she had packed her bag and was at the door, seemingly as eager as he was. In the hurricane, she had stuffed into her bag a couple stacks of paper, strange instruments that he could not name, photographs, her black notebook, a few extra shirts, her pipe, a box of chocolates, matches, two different clocks, and a handful of rupees (from the looks of the bright colors, it amounted to a surprisingly large amount of money). Then she had quickly braided her hair, put on her loud and dangly jewelry, strapped a dagger almost identical to the one that Shad owned to her belt, and blown out the candles. All in the span of five minutes, while Link sat watching her with his mouth ajar.

Now they walked together in the darkness with the same destination in mind—their intentions, of course, completely different. Link knew that she didn't care about his intentions, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn't care about hers, either. All he knew was that he needed to find a way to manipulate the temple, and if anyone would be able to help him, it was her. This dark, mysterious, brilliant, insane girl with the violet eyes and thick hair who made him feel smaller than a mouse when she spoke.

Link wondered if now was the right time to thank her.

"Isn't it dangerous to go out into Hyrule Field at night?" she suddenly said, before he had the chance.

They were nearing the town's main exit, where they would follow the path for three days and be at the Sacred Grove. The question seemed to warrant at least a bit of worry, but she didn't sound concerned in the slightest. More curious than anything.

"Monsters will only come out sometimes," he replied. "But we don't have to worry about them. I could fight them with my eyes closed."

"Wow, I'd like to see that."

The wooden doors creaked as they pushed them open, walking past sleeping beggars and abandoned people roaming the streets with a lost glimmer in their eyes. Link had never realized how eerie the town was at night, even through all his travels. Maybe he had simply been too blinded by the horrors that laid outside of the town walls to notice. But Tara was unfazed. As if the haunting images were nothing new to her.

The gravel was wet beneath their boots when they finally stepped off the cobblestone bridge and onto the path leading away from the town. At that point the darkness, no longer warded off by dim lamps lighting the city streets, was deep and disheartening. It surprised him that after experiencing it so many times, he had never felt so disturbed by it. Perhaps it was because he had always been distracted, or perhaps it was because he had never felt so alone. Even with Tara, as energetic and feisty as ever, by his side, he felt alone. He always felt alone. That was the reason he was on this quest, wasn't it? Why he was venturing to throw himself at the mercy of the goddesses one last time?

He wasn't entirely sure.

Link thought back to why he had decided not to take Epona. His time was limited, after all, and she would have helped him reach the temple faster. He still couldn't say with complete certainty what made him pack his things and leave, determination flashing in his eyes, deliberately on foot. Why he had not even mentioned to Tara that he had a horse. Perhaps he felt that it would be more pure of a journey on foot—more cleansing. Either way, it was too late to turn back. Epona was safe in the stables, shielded from the rain and the piles of hardship he knew he was about to see.

Then, a new question entered his thoughts.

Would Tara be able to handle it? Whatever was coming? Had she ever experienced anything like this before?

He glanced over at her again.

Her aura, her atmosphere, the energy radiating from her wet skin, was still shocking to him.

She didn't seem out of place, she didn't seem nervous, she didn't seem scrupulous or hesitant or incredulous. Tara stared straight ahead at some goal, some horizon. Link couldn't see what it was, but he didn't need to. What he knew, from watching her like that, was that she would be fine. He wouldn't have been surprised if her tongue—much sharper than any dagger or sword—soon showed itself as her greatest weapon. Either that or her undeniable genius.

Suddenly, as they walked, he thought he heard footsteps approach on his left. Letting his hand jump back to the hilt of his sword, he glanced over at whomever had walked up beside him.

There was nobody there.

As he cursed himself and whatever it was playing tricks on his mind, that hand appeared again. On the back of his neck this time, stroking his skin like an old, soothing friend. Its warmth was sickening, made him wince. And then, in a single instant, the hand and its ghostly warmth was gone, leaving him to feel colder than ever.

"Whoa, you all right?" Tara stopped walking and watched him, and it was only then that he realized he had stopped, too, and was practically trembling.

"Yeah, I...I thought I saw someone."

"Not to worry, we're the only ones crazy enough to be out at this hour."

"I guess you're right." He tried not to seem as shaken as he felt.

While they walked on in silence, she reached into her bag and plopped a chocolate in her mouth. As if she were still sitting in her smoky, candle-lit room working out her undecipherable equations. Something was turning in her mind. But Link was always frightened by her mind and didn't want to ask anything about it.

"Hey, wait a second, Mr. Hero," she said, raising a finger. "Aren't you supposed to take over the throne soon?"

"...Yes."

"In, what? Four days?"

"Four or five, I don't remember."

"And you want to keep going?"

"Why would that stop me?"

She stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"This trip will take at least a week," she continued.

"Yes."

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Hmm?"

He was hardly paying attention at that point. After she had asked the question, his mind had begun tuning out.

"You're taking over an entire kingdom in five days and you're not even gonna be in Castle Town! They're gonna kill me for this."

"No, they won't."

"You get crazier and crazier each time we talk."

"I left a note for Shad."

"Ha, saying what, exactly? 'Hey, sorry, but I'm gonna have to miss my own damn knighting ceremony. Find someone to fill in for me, old chap'?"

"Something like that."

"For Din's sake, you're hopeless."

"I could say the same about you."

Tara didn't respond, and she certainly didn't try to convince him of anything—for which he was grateful. She just silenced herself with another chocolate.

Together, they fell back into the rhythm of mutual loneliness and an odd, happy connection with the downpour.

* * *

Shad was afraid (he had been afraid all morning) that his brain was going to explode. He sat on the bed in his room in the castle, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. Kneeling behind him on the bed was the one person who could bring any hope of calming him. The one person without whom he surely would have driven himself absolutely insane.

_As if I'm not insane enough as it is._

Simply her presence made the air in the room feel less heavy. As he breathed in, breathed out, tried to keep himself from shaking, Ashei squeezed his shoulders and leaned her cheek against his temple.

"Shh, it's okay. Calm down."

"H-how do I stay calm?" he stuttered. He was in one of his states; stumbling over his words, shaking as if he had a fever, getting more excited than any normal person should. "I-I can't possibly calm down now!"

Her fingers dug more deeply into his shoulders, and her breath against his cheek helped him see a little bit more clearly, but there was too much happening. In his clenched fist was a crumpled piece of paper he had found on his desk that morning. He flinched every time he remembered finding it.

As soon as the sun's rays had peeked into his room, he had stumbled from his bed in his perfectly matching Oocca pajamas, groped for his glasses, and made his way toward the washroom while Ashei had continued sleeping in her pajamas that looked much too warm for Castle Town. But he had noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a piece of paper on his desk. It had been so organized and perfect that the parchment had stood out like a sore thumb. He had grabbed it, read it, and screamed in surprise before collapsing back onto the bed and going into his state.

The note read, in handwriting that was understandably less than stellar:

_Shad,_

_ I'm sorry, but I have to leave. I'm going to the Temple of Time. Say what you will, think what you will, send whomever you want to stop me. Just know that nothing will convince me to stay and nothing will convince me to stop. I have to do this. I'll be gone for at least a week, so I won't be in Castle Town for the ceremony. I hate to ask this of you, but I in no way intend to give up my knighthood. I'm going to ask as your best friend, hoping that you can find it in your heart to understand and maybe forgive me. _

_ Please stall for me. _

_ Of course, as you've probably figured out already, this is all assuming that there will still be a ceremony when I return. This is all assuming that I fail. _

_ I'm sorry. _

_ Your friend and companion,_

_Link_

_P.S: Tara is coming with me. _

And now he was sitting on his bed trying to comprehend Link's requests. Trying to comprehend his own thoughts, his own urges to just give in and do what Link was asking.

_What else is there for me to do?_

He was Link's friend, Link's companion, after all. But was it the right thing to do? To let him go, potentially manipulate the fabric of the world and the limitations which humans were to never overstep? Stretch life's boundaries?

Shad just didn't know what to do, and so, he had gone into his state and Ashei had woken up and begun massaging him.

"Shad, hun?"

"Y-yes?"

"Whatcha thinking?"

"What aren't I thinking, dear."

She wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed, and he could feel her smile against his cheek. It made everything a little bit better, knowing that she was there beside him to hold him up when he felt as if he were crumbling.

"Why are you so hung up on Link?" she sighed. "He's making his own decisions. Why should he drag you into them?"

"You don't feel indebted to him at all?!" he cried. He could actually feel the tension, the frustration, the raw excitement in his voice.

"'Course I do. He's a true soldier, a true man. And he's done a lot for the Resistance, to be sure, but..."

"B-but what?"

"Don't you think he's indebted to us, too?"

"I-I don't understand what you mean, darling."

"We've saved his arse just as many times as he's saved ours, yeah?"

Shad slipped a little bit deeper into his state and couldn't respond because his desire to rip out his own hair was too overwhelming. Ashei sensed his tension and hugged him just a little bit tighter.

"Shad," she said, dropping her voice to a whisper.

The shivers that suddenly ran across his skin were completely separate than any he had been feeling before. He became painstakingly aware of her lips against his ear, of her hands slipping beneath the buttons of his pajamas and down against his chest.

"I know you care about him," she continued. "I do, too. He's one of my best mates. And I know you'd do anything for him, just like he'd do for you. But his decisions are his decisions, yeah? Not yours. Just do what you can. What feels right."

"I don't know what feels right!" he burst.

Then he buried his face in his hands and pressed his palms, as hard as he possibly could, against his forehead. With a soft chuckle, Ashei moved her lips from his ear to the back of his neck, where they sat and sent more chills down his spine.

"Don't try to make his decisions your decisions," she breathed.

"I-I just care about him so much. Like my own brother."

"Then treat him like your brother, yeah?"

"Yes..."

He tried to concentrate on the sensations of her skin, her stray hair, her warm mountain breath. But it was hard. Even harder than usual, to clear his head. He tried to remember the last time his head was clear—had his head ever been clear?

"How about we do what he asks, yeah?" she suggested. "Just stall for now. And then see what happens."

"Perhaps you're right."

Her voice was drawing him out of his state, making him see through the clouds of his cluttered brain.

"Of course I am. And how about..."

Her voice trailed off and before he knew it, she had unbuttoned his shirt all the way and subjected his bare, pale skin to the morning breeze flowing in through the window.

"...you don't touch your notebook at all today, yeah?"

"Ashei, dear—"

"Don't even go near your desk."

Then, as he tried in vain to find the words of protest dancing on his lips, she lifted his glasses and put them on the nightstand. And he could resist no more. A soft, content smile took over his lips and for at least a few minutes, he forced himself to forget that he was about to divulge in the deceit of an entire kingdom.

* * *

Link and Tara decided to stop and rest at Kakariko Village. By the time they reached it, it was almost dusk—they had walked straight through the night and straight through the day, almost in complete silence. The rain still had not stopped and the sky was even grayer than he had anticipated. A fleeting fear crossed his mind as he led Tara to that one building where he knew he'd be welcome. He feared that, beneath the rain and the chills, Tara would get sick. But just as she had last night, and just as she had all through the day, she seemed perfectly fine. More energetic than usual, even. Ready to whip out her sarcasm and her rage at any moment.

"This place looks run down," she sighed, following him toward the isolated building. "Can't we just stay at the inn?"

Link didn't respond. He didn't want to bother with it. Instead, feeling something that he could only assume was comparable to homesickness and relief, he walked up to the front door of the plaster building and knocked. He could sense Tara's hesitance as she stood beside him and cocked her hip, watched the door as if it reeked of incompetence. After a few moments, the door creaked open, to reveal a beautifully familiar face. The man, with dark skin and even darker hair, surrounded by an aura of wisdom and contentment, looked surprised at first. Link simply smiled, bowed his head as a sign of admiration.

"Hello, Renado."

"Link! Mah boi."

Before he could even lift his head, Renado pulled him into a strong, steady hug. He smelled just as he always had—of herbs, of medicine, of satisfaction and happiness. Link let his head rest against Renado's chest; exhaustion had suddenly overcome his entire body, to the point that he could barely stand beneath the steady pouring of the rain. He leaned almost his entire weight against the old shaman, who received it with warm, open arms.

"It's good to see you again, Link," he said. "It's very good to see you again."

"You, too."

Finally, Link dragged himself out of Renado's grasp so that he could look at his face, gaze into his eyes while he tried to express how relieved he was to see a friendly face. One that he knew would support him, give him a bed and soup and good advice.

"Who might this be?" Renado said.

Only then did Link remember Tara, who stood with her hip still cocked but her eyes soft.

"This is my..."

Link's voice trailed off, because he didn't exactly know what to call her. He wasn't sure if they had truly reached the level of 'friends' yet.

"Tara. Nice to meet you."

She stuck her arm out in a very final manner, with a hint of her mischievous crooked smile. Renado smiled back, his large, welcoming smile, and shook her hand with both of his.

"I am Renado, a shaman of Kakariko Village and a good friend of Link's."

"Ooh, a shaman? How exciting. I've never met one of those before. And trust me, I've travelled a lot."

"You have, have you? Now you said your name was...Tara, yes?"

"That's right."

"Pardon my impertinence, but you wouldn't happen to be—"

"The renowned philosopher and scientist of time, Tara? Yes, that would be me."

"Well, I've heard much about you and read nearly all your published work. Fascinating, truly. You have an amazing mind."

"It's nice to see someone at least remembers my name. Thanks for that."

"The pleasure is entirely mine. Please, please, come in."

Renado chuckled softly, and Tara's grin widened. Then, before Link could take a single step, she walked forward into his house.

Link sighed deeply because for some reason, he had been holding his breath throughout their entire conversation. And as he walked into Renado's sanctuary, he felt a strange presence follow him in—the same presence that had been clinging to him for days. The presence manifested by the pale, ghostly hand with the green nails and warm touch. It followed him in, grasping his shoulders for dear life, and Link had no idea what it was or what to do about it.

_Renado will have an idea,_ he thought. _He must..._


	11. The Warning

**So, now that you've had about seven chapters to get to know her, what do you think of Tara? Lemme know! **

**Hmmmmmmmmmm side-note they should put Renado in more games, too. **

**He's a really swag character. **

**Kbye while I go play some Twilight Princess.**

* * *

Chapter Eleven: The Warning

"So this clock..."

"Yup. I got it from a merchant in the mountains, handmade. Not another even slightly like it in the world."

"And this one?"

"This one was also handmade, by...well, let's just say it was made by a very talented artist in Castle Town."

"How interesting. How very interesting."

Renado and Tara had been sitting by the fire, talking all night about the concepts of time, about her travels and his travels and the clocks that she had stuffed haphazardly in her bag. All while Link sat on ground beside the fireplace, his back against the wall, falling in and out of sleep while his head bobbed up and down. He was only able to catch snippets of the conversation. The warmth from the fire, along with the quilt blankets wrapped around his body and the food Luda had prepared, had made his eyelids heavy. His mind was even heavier. And beside him was that presence, making him wish more than anything that he could close his eyes and fall into a deep slumber, to forget about it for even a single moment.

Each time he fell asleep, new images danced across his mind.

First he was just standing in the air with absolutely nothing surrounding him. Zelda stood in front of him, holding his hands and saying over and over and over again, "I love you." There was just nothing but her, but him, standing together.

Next he was back in the lake of fire, drowning in the flames and the deafening sound of the ticking clocking.

_Tick tock. _

_ Tick tock. _

_ Tick tock. _

_ Time. _

Then he was crouched down on the edge of a cliff, his knees scraped and bloody from the rocks. His arm was stretched out, grabbing Zelda's hands as she threatened to slip from his grasp down into the dark abyss below. He held on as tightly as he could and felt tears running down his face, even while she smiled up at him and said, "Let go of me." But he wouldn't let go. He couldn't. He didn't want her to fall.

After that, he was standing in a shadow. When he looked up to see what was casting the shadow, it was a giant clock, with hands that looked like swords and numbers curled in the most elegant way. Each time a hand moved, the entire world trembled, and he fell to the ground from the force. Then, out from the shadows, the silhouette of that man came back again. He reached his hand out—it was the same hand, with the green finger nails. As the man helped him stand, Link noticed the green pocket watch hanging from the man's wrist. Moving back and forth.

_Tick tock. _

_ Tick tock. _

_ Tick tock. _

_ Time is alive. _

At the end of that dream, Link screamed. He didn't hear himself or feel himself do it, but he assumed that he had, because when he opened his eyes Renado was leaning over him with a worried expression on his tired face. He put the back of his hand against Link's forehead while the young hero felt a terrible chill, and wrapped the quilt around himself more tightly.

"You're as hot as this fire."

"I was having nightmares..."

"I noticed you mumbling in your sleep, but I couldn't make out what you were saying," Renado sighed, straightening up. Slowly, he shook his head. "Though I did hear one thing."

Link knew what was coming and turned his face away, toward the crackling fire. With a strange fear that the flames would jump up at him, consume him.

"You were calling out for her," Renado continued. "Calling her name."

"Always her name," Link murmured to himself.

"Would you like a glass of water?"

"Yes, please."

As Renado moved to grab a cup of water for his feverish guest, Link watched the shadows dancing across the sanctuary. When he caught a glance of one of Tara's clocks, strewn at her feet, he saw that the time was around 2:00 in the morning. Though, after what she had so eloquently told him, he found it hard to trust clocks—or time in general—anymore. Tara herself was curled up in the chair in which she had been sitting, fast asleep. Renado had covered her in another quilt, and Link couldn't help but notice how strangely still she was when she slept. As if she did it so seldom that her body was taking advantage of every single moment.

Link gulped down the entire glass of water within moments while the shaman pulled up his seat to the fireplace and watched it intently. Link stared at his reflection in the murky glass, wondered if he looked this hellish all the time. He certainly hoped not.

"How are you feeling?"

"Do you want my honest answer?"

"Always."

"Lonely and scared."

"Why are you scared?" he urged. "I've never heard you utter that word before."

"I never thought about it," Link admitted. "Not until Tara reminded me."

"Reminded you of what?"

"Reminded me that it's normal to feel scared."

"What are you scared of now?"

"I'm scared of staying lonely, I guess."

"A reasonable fear."

Renado turned and gave Link a soothing smile. The hero had begun fiddling with his necklace again. His nerves were shaking like an earthquake, even though for the first time in hours, the presence clinging to him was gone. He didn't feel the hand or its warmth. Only the warmth of the fire and Renado's fatherly smile.

"Link, may I ask you a question?"

"Hmm."

"Why are you here?"

He knew that question was bound to arrive, but he still didn't feel completely ready for it.

"I have a feeling you're not simply here to visit me," he grinned, "am I right?"

"You are."

"If you don't want to—"

"I do," Link interrupted. "I do want to tell you."

They fell into a short silence, in which the understanding overtook the need for words. Renado understood that Link needed the silence to gather strength, energy; Link understood that Renado understood. But finally, Link spoke.

"I'm going to the Temple of Time."

"Ah."

"The dreams are terrible, Renado. So beautiful, so perfect...and that makes them so terrible. More like nightmares than anything."

"Are you going because of the dreams?"

"N-no, not because of the dreams." Link shook his head, trying to organize his own justifications. "I'm going because I made a promise."

"We all make promises."

"She made a promise, too."

"Sometimes we can't keep our promises, Link."

"But it's so useless," he sighed. "It's so useless if we both break our promises. Why did we make them to begin with?"

"Because you believed that you could stand true to your word."

"We could."

"The world, the goddesses, the powers of nature, sometimes deem that you can't."

"It's not just the promise, though."

His voice had dropped to a whisper, and the ring was burning against his skin. Everything was burning, sweating, panting. He could hear Tara's breathing mingling with the crackling of the fire, in perfect rhythm with the invisible clock ticking in his mind.

"Tell me, mah boi," Renado cooed. "What is it?"

Link turned his head to the ceiling, as if there were a sky to look at. A sky to pray to, a sky to curse.

"I have to live with this burden. It's so heavy. Sometimes I feel like my knees are breaking."

"What is your burden?"

"She...if I were dead, she would be alive. But now I'm alive, and she's dead," he whispered. At that point, he was squeezing the ring so hard that pain shot through his entire arm. "My life is my burden."

"Link, you know what I'm going to tell you," Renado began. He had a soft smile playing on the corners of his lips. Understanding, knowing, resigned. "You know that I'm going to try to dissuade you."

"Everyone has."

"Time is dangerous."

"I brought Tara with me. You know how brilliant she is. She can help me fight it."

"My dear child," Renado sighed. "There is no such thing as fighting time. You can try, surely. You can raise your weapons and cry to the sky, 'I fight time.' But you never do."

"But I want to try. I want to raise my weapons against it."

Link felt that the words flowing from his mouth were uncontrollable, like a river crashing through a dam.

"It's like destiny," he said. "People say you can't fight it, but you can. I've seen it. I've done it. Fought destiny."

"Perhaps you have. But perhaps you've only convinced yourself that you've been fighting it, all while walking alongside it. Its hand encased in yours."

"I have to fight it again. Maybe...maybe I want to fight it just because she didn't."

"You poor child," Renado murmured. "Your love is so powerful. It has always been so powerful. To the point that it is dangerous."

"I would rather my love be powerful than weak."

"You can strengthen weak love. You cannot weaken strong love."

"Renado?"

"Yes?"

"There's this warmth," he said. "It's clinging to me. It has a hand with green nails, and it looks like a ghost hand. It sits on my shoulders, and it's so warm. It's so beautiful."

Renado didn't respond. He turned his gaze back to the dying flames. But Link knew he was listening. He had to be. It was so late, Link's mind was hazy with exhaustion and fear and loneliness. He felt that he was losing control of everything, and so he asked questions. Tried to find answers in any way that he could.

"There's a man I see in my dreams sometimes. He has a green pocket watch. I think the hand is his, but I don't know who he is. I don't know what his face looks like. I don't know what he wants. I don't know if he's real, or if I'm just crazy."

And then, he could've sworn he saw Tara looking at him. When he glanced over at her, though, she was asleep.

"If you are crazy, then Hyrule thrives from insanity."

"He says to me, 'Time is alive.' As if he knows what I want to do."

Link hugged his knees and pulled them tightly against his chest, mostly so that he could feel that he was still alive. Be aware of himself and his flesh when everything else was crumbling around him.

"What does it mean, Renado? Do you know?"

The shaman stood from his chair and began making his way around the room, blowing out the candles. Link's drowsiness was finally getting the best of him, and he was drifting back into sleep. But before he did, before the entire world fell into darkness, he heard Renado say one last thing.

"A warning, Link," he said. "Quite simply, a warning."

* * *

"What do you mean Link won't be attending tonight's council meeting?"

"He's the head of the council!"

"And just how are we supposed to make any decisions?"

"The knighting ceremony is in four days!"

"Please, please, hear me out," Shad cried, raising his hands. But even he could tell that his voice was soft. "I-I can explain—"

His words were completely drowned by the riled shouts of the surprised council members. Sitting around the table once again with no leader. Just as it had been months ago. And then, he saw Ashei stand up beside him. She banged her hands against the table, and shouted out for attention. Her voice was loud and her presence commanding, and just like that, there was silence. All eyes were turned on her.

"Now listen to him!" she demanded. Shad smiled nervously.

"Master Link has taken ill, unfortunately," he said. The fact that he was lying, of course, made his voice undeniably shaky.

"With what, pray tell?" called one of the council members. Shad opened his mouth, ready to flounder, but Auru thankfully came to his rescue.

"A rare illness. One that leaves him bedridden for an unpredictable amount of time. You must understand."

"Let us send for a doctor!"

Auru, maintaining his composure and smiling his capturing smile, raised his hands.

"Unfortunately, Master Link gave us very specific orders," he said. His voice sounded like the very manifestation of reason. "He wants only Ashei, Shad, and myself to tend to him."

"What?!"

"And why you three?"

"Hey!" Ashei cried again. Silence fell once more. "It doesn't matter why he said anything. Master Link's word is law. That's what you all vowed, yeah?"

Nobody responded. Shad, as discreetly as possible, let out a sigh of relief. They had at least managed to keep away the dogs for a little while. But still, he had that pit in his stomach.

_My nerves were truly not made for this._

* * *

Link, Tara, Renado, and Luda sat around a wooden table to eat their breakfast before Link and Tara left once more. The sun had just finished rising and the air inside of Renado's house was bright, the atmosphere breezy. Everything was calm because that was the way Kakariko Village was. Calm, satisfied, breezy. And Link, struggling to shove eggs down his throat, felt anything but. He had woken up feeling that pain again, the dagger in his heart. But somehow, he had managed to suppress the screams so that nobody would notice. He couldn't bear to be reminded of how much he was suffering by outsiders. So now he sat, the quilt still wrapped around his shoulders, eating the food that his hosts had made for him.

"Have you ever seen a clock like this, Luda?"

"No! It's amazing! What's painted on the face?"

"It's called a Yeti. They only exist in the mountains."

"Wow."

Tara was sitting across from him with Luda, a smile unlike any he had ever seen on her face. As she too ate her food, she crouched down and spoke to Luda with a soft tone, explained the mechanisms of her one-of-a-kind clock. She seemed truly, genuinely happy, and that confused Link. There was a sparkle in her eyes that he didn't recognize. She spoke to Luda as if she were a friend from long ago, a daughter, a younger sister.

"How are you feeling, Link?" Renado asked. He was tending to the ashes in the fireplace, which had long ago died. Tara and Luda both fell silent and looked up at him.

The expression in Tara's eyes completely changed. He felt judged, watched, horribly uncomfortable beneath her gaze. It was suspicious. Incredulous. Skeptical. He wondered if she had always looked at him like that.

"Fine," he said.

As soon as he closed his mouth, Tara turned her attention back to the bright-eyed Luda.

"You have a long way to go. Don't forget to stock up before you leave," the shaman said.

"Will do, thanks," Tara responded.

Link sensed a strange connection between her and Renado. As if they, too, had known each other for more than one lifetime. The entire atmosphere put him on the edge of his seat.

After an hour, Tara and Link stood at the entrance to the village in the glittering aftermath of a rainy night, their bags slung over their shoulders and their legs and minds rested. Luda and Renado went to see them off. As Link fell into another one of Renado's warm hugs, he wondered for the first time if this were the right thing to do—if maybe it wasn't a better idea to just turn around and go home.

_No. I can't._

Beside him, Tara leaned down so that she was looking directly into Luda's eyes. She grabbed both of her hands in hers, and before Luda could protest, put the clock from the mountain in her grasp. The young girl's eyes grew wide and a smile spread from ear to ear.

"You're really giving this to me?"

"Sure. I can always go back up there and get another one."

"But it won't be the same...right?"

"Of course not. Yours is unique. Not another one like it, and there won't ever be another like it. Got it?"

"Got it! Thanks, Tara."

"You two be careful," Renado warned. "Look out for each other."

"Of course," they said in unison.

"Thanks for everything, old man," Tara smirked. He gave her an amused smile.

"You are welcome here whenever you like. Please don't forget it."

"I won't."

With one last flashy, charming smile, Tara turned and began making her way down the beaten path. Link turned to follow, but Renado grabbed his arm.

"Just remember what I told you," he whispered. "Don't get in over your head. Understand your limits, understand her limits. Understand that the past is the past."

"I don't know if I can. But thanks."

"And, Link."

"Yes?"

"Don't ignore the warning of the goddesses."

Renado's eyes became dark and brooding and struck Link's core.

"Don't ignore the warning."


	12. Charmer of the Mind

**Well whaddya know it's chapter twelve weeeeeeeeee.**

**So...I don't really know what to say about this chapter...not a lot of action, I guess...a lot of talking...character development (I hope?)...**

**Apparently, I am now fluent in Ancient Hylian. **

**Just kidding, I make everything up as I go. **

**(Ancient Hylian isn't even a real language, for anybody who was wondering.)**

**It's really late and I'm really tired and I am rambling a lot...**

**Well, I'll stop rambling now and let you read.**

**Enjoy!**

**(AND EID MUBARAK!)**

**-falls asleep on laptop-**

* * *

Chapter Twelve: Charmer of the Mind

The silence in which Link and Tara walked, from Kakariko Village to their next destination (whatever it was), was a different silence than before. It was much colder, much denser, as if there were an entire wall between them that neither could climb. When he looked over at her, she was always staring straight ahead with such a hard glint in her eyes. And sometimes, he could feel her eyes on him—sneaking a glance at this strange man who had for some reason elicited her help. But he could never bring himself to look back at her. He was afraid that if he did, something would snap and she would jump at his throat for one reason or another. The thought of dying before he could save Zelda made his heart thump.

But somehow, the silence made them move faster. They cut across Hyrule's landscapes faster than even he had been anticipating. They passed travelers, on foot and in caravans, merchants, scholars. Everyone was absorbed in his or her own agenda, but Link couldn't help examining each face with irrational scrutiny. These were going to be his people, after all; although deep inside, he hoped that they would never be _his_ people. At least not his people alone.

The one thing that Link couldn't stop thinking of was the hand. As soon as he had left Kakariko Village, the presence had appeared once again, like a man (maybe a young boy?) walking beside him (sometimes behind him). At times holding his hands, at times rubbing his shoulders, at times simply there. Always like a ghost, always like an aura. He couldn't go a single moment without feeling the chills on his skin.

And he couldn't shake the feeling that Tara could see—or sense—his discomfort. He couldn't shake the feeling that that was why she refused to look at him, speak to him, even acknowledge his existence. Something seemed very off. She had always struck him as strange, but this was different. Something seemed very, very off.

When the sun was beginning to set, he decided to say something.

"Tara," he began. She didn't react initially. "I...I don't know very much about you."

She paused, and he was afraid that she would just ignore him.

"I don't know much about you, either."

"Well, you can ask anybody about me and you'll get my entire life story."

"I find that hard to believe."

"What does Tara mean?"

"Why do you care?"

"Does it matter?"

She stared at him with narrowed eyes. He considered saying that if he was going to trust her, if he was going to put the fate of his entire sanity in the hands of this girl, he wanted to know at least a little bit about her. He figured she wouldn't buy that anyway. And luckily, she conceded and decided to answer.

"My full name is Taralisse. In Ancient Hylian, it means 'Charmer of the Mind.'"

"Taralisse..." he repeated. It sounded oddly nice. "How fitting. Why did you shorten it?"

"It just happened, I guess," she shrugged. "Taralisse is apparently a mouthful."

"I like Taralisse. I think I'll call you Taralisse."

She turned away, as if his comment made her nervous.

"What does Link mean?" she finally said.

"Maybe you could tell me?" he suggested. "I don't know Ancient Hylian."

"It might not be based on Ancient Hylian."

"Well, tell me what Link means in Ancient Hylian."

"Link...let's see...In Ancient Hylian, Link means 'Asshole.'"

"I'm serious."

"Fine, fine. It means 'Hero.'"

He was fairly disappointed with that result.

"That's so predictable."

When Tara smiled, he saw a little crack in the wall between them. Perhaps there was hope of some kind of amicable relationship after all.

"Can I ask you another question, Charmer of the Mind?"

"Even if I said no, Mr. Hero, you would still ask. So go for it."

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Like what."

"Like I said something to make you dislike me even more than before. Ever since this morning."

"You do say a lot of frustrating things. I might not remember specific statements."

"No, you know what I mean."

She glared at him again, and the wall went up even higher. And then he noticed that the look on her face was the exact expression he had seen a couple days ago, when he had confronted her about the Pedestal of Time. She was nervous, hiding something locked away deep inside of her. And that, in turn, made him nervous.

"No," she said bluntly. "I don't know what you mean."

"Then let me ask this."

"I have a right not to answer."

"Why are you so interested in time?"

Tara paused and looked straight ahead again. Then she crossed her arms and Link knew that he wasn't going to get anywhere.

"Why are _you_?"

He suddenly thought that maybe if he were honest with her, she would be honest with him.

"Because I'm in love."

He could tell his answer caught her off guard, because she looked straight at him with a different expression. An unexpectedly sad one.

"What does that have to do with time?"

"Lots of things," he replied. "Like you said. Emotions are one of the few things that survive time. And love is the strongest emotion of all."

"Yeah? Well I think rage is the strongest emotion."

"_Rage?_"

"Yup. It motivates people to do some crazy shit."

"So does love."

"My turn to ask you a question, pretty boy," she smirked. "How do you know it's love and not rage motivating you? Right now at this very moment?"

"You can't ask me that. You don't know anything about my motivations."

"Perhaps."

Then she fell silent, and Link was grateful. Because, ironically enough, his rage had begun surfacing. But he managed to suppress it, all while wondering if maybe she were right. It wouldn't have been the first time. But even when she was quiet, he felt a strange desire to keep talking. A need to keep talking. Because even with her snide remarks and her cold glares, something about the way she listened made him want to talk. It was strikingly similar to the way Zelda had always drawn out his secrets, and he had always given them so willingly. They had similar manners of listening—even when they weren't really listening, they made you feel like they were just by the way they looked at you. The way they reacted (or pretended to react). So Link kept talking.

"It feels strange. I've spent so much time—no, wasted so much time being upset. Now the possibility that it all could finally come to a close is...it's overwhelming. It's like when I used to hear stories of the castle, or the desert, or the mountains. But when I finally saw them with my own eyes, something changed. Everything became even less believable, as strange as that sounds. The more I saw, the less I believed that it actually existed. So now, when I think about going back to the Temple of Time, I'm afraid I won't even believe it's there. That everything I've read or dreamt about is just fantasy. That time doesn't even exist."

"The temple is real. Don't you worry about that. Although I'm not so sure about time."

"I get chills thinking about it."

And then, Tara said something that gave him even more chills.

She looked straight into his eyes with one of the most grave expressions he had ever seen. And for a split second, he thought she looked past him—at the presence walking beside him. As if she could see it.

"I don't think the temple is what's giving you chills."

He wanted to stop, grab her shoulders, and shake her until the answers he was searching for flowed from her sassy lips. To scream until she finally told him what she meant. By everything, by anything. Ask her why she had said that, why she knew so much about him. Walking beside her, not knowing a single thing about her and at the same time feeling undeniably watched and judged by her, was one of the most uncomfortable situations in which he'd ever found himself.

Link opened his mouth to confront her. To try and convince her to open up even a little bit. But the only words that came out were: "Who _are_ you?"

Taralisse just smiled, and the rest of the world was drowned out by the chiming of her golden jewelry.

"A simple charmer of the mind, Mr. Hero."

* * *

By the time the sun set, they had found a small caravan—a travelling inn near the entrance to Faron Woods—in which they decided to sleep that night. The two sat beside each other on a cot inside the caravan, while stars sparkled directly outside in the dewy night air. Tara didn't mind. At that point in her life, at a ripe 21 years old, she was so accustomed to travelling and sleeping with only the stars above her that it was almost funny. Of course, she knew that it had to be the same for Link. Perhaps worse. She almost found herself feeling sorry for him (at the very least she was undeniably curious) when she thought about how many nights he had to have slept in the grass, struggling to stay warm, cradling his head with only his arms. She thought that maybe she would ask him about it later.

But, obviously, she was not going to ask him anything until she got over her immense distrust and discomfort with him. Not until her questions were answered.

Not until she figured out why the boy was following Link.

She wanted chocolate more than anything, but she had to be content with only her pipe. As Link spread himself out on the cot they were going to sleep on, taking a bite of an apple that looked much too red, Tara sat beside him and lit her pipe. She felt him trying not to look at her, just as she was trying not to look at him.

Tara had never felt like this around anybody before. The problem was, essentially, that she didn't know _how_ she felt. The conversations they had were always so strange, their interactions tense and awkward. There was something about him that kept her on edge—and she knew that there was something about her that kept him on edge.

Until the evening before, Tara had had so much trouble trying to figure out what it was about him that made her so uncomfortable. But after hearing him speaking with Renado, when they both thought she was asleep, she understood. And that understanding was what made her want chocolate and what made her inhale the smoke of her pipe so deeply.

History was repeating itself. Everything that Tara was afraid of, everything that she had tried to bury, was resurfacing in the form of Link. She understood exactly what he was going through, she understood his thought process, she understood why he always had those chills on his skin and why he was always looking backward—as if there were somebody walking behind him. She knew everything. And it made her terribly, terribly nervous.

He was going through the worst kind of pain a human being can go through: carrying the burden of life itself.

His thought process concerned only the need to reverse time.

He had chills on his skin because of the dreams.

He was always looking backward, as if there were somebody walking behind him, because there _was_ somebody walking behind him.

And yet, she couldn't help but smile at the irony of it all. Tara was uncomfortable because she understood Link better than she wanted to; Link was uncomfortable, she knew, because he understood absolutely nothing about her. Each time he tried, she shut herself off. It was like a habit for her. Not to mention that Link had not left the best impression on her. He was handsome and valiant and he had beautiful eyes, but...something about him made her cringe.

"You smoke so much," he said, breaking the silence. He was lying on his back while she sat, cross-legged, beside him. He said it absentmindedly, as if he were falling asleep.

"Yeah?"

She turned and blew smoke right into his face. He closed his eyes and did something very strange, something unexpected; Tara had always been good at predicting things from a scientific perspective, which had gradually translated into her ability to predict things in people. But she could not have predicted Link's smile at that moment. He simply closed his eyes, breathed in the smoke, and smiled.

"What are you smiling about?" she demanded.

"How hopeless it is."

"Then why are you even here if it's hopeless?"

"I don't mean the time," he chuckled. Then he began shaking his head. "I mean you."

"_Me?_"

"You're so hopeless."

"Excuse you."

"We all have our talents, right?"

"Sure. Mine is smoking, yours is wonderfully rare stupidity."

"No, mine is reading people."

"...Reading people. You're serious."

"Yes. I can look into somebody's eyes and read them like a book."

"Yeah, okay."

"I wasn't born with that talent. I don't think I was born with any talents, really. But...here, I'll try to explain it this way. When I was first handed a sword and they said to me, 'Fight,' I had no idea what I was doing. I wasn't strong. I didn't know how to fight."

"It's a wonder you're alive, huh?"

"When I fought enemies, I knew I wasn't strong enough to win with force. So I used strategy. I read my enemies. Their strengths, their weaknesses, their fighting patterns. It became a way for me to survive. If I couldn't read an enemy right, I was going to die. In a way, I was forced to develop this talent. But as I read my enemies, I learned how to read people, too."

"Hmm. All right. If I'm a book, what genre am I?" she asked.

He opened his eyes. Then she realized why they struck her as so beautiful: they looked exactly like a wolf's eyes. She had always believed wolves to be beautiful.

"I have no idea," he answered.

"Pretty useless talent, if you ask me."

"Sometimes I catch glimpses. And I think, maybe she's a comedy. Other times I think, maybe she's a tragedy. But then the glimpse is gone and I have no idea."

"You catch glimpses? You are so full of shit."

"I'm serious," he continued. But his voice was soft, distracted. He wasn't even looking at her. She figured he must have been thinking of at least a million things at once. "Like today. Or a couple days ago, when I asked you about the Pedestal of Time. Your eyes gleamed in a certain way. I knew exactly what was going on in your head."

"Oh, did you, now?"

"Yes. I knew right away that you were hiding something."

"I mean...I think I made that pretty obvious."

He was starting to make her nervous, and her smoking was getting faster and deeper.

"No, no, I don't mean like that," he said. "It's not that you were hiding something, actually. It's that something was hidden inside you."

"I don't—"

"That's the only thing I can get from you," he chuckled again. "That there is something dark locked inside of you."

Tara wanted to smack him as hard as she could for having the nerve to say something like that to her. But instead, she turned away with rage in her eyes and bit down on the end of her pipe. Because, in the end, he was right.

"Well...that, and your insanity," he added.

"Don't try to tell me you're not just as insane as I am, Mr. Hero."

"Oh, I am. But I'm definitely not as brilliant."

"A mad genius, if you will."

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Maybe not. Like I said. It's hopeless understanding you."

"Yes. Well. You're right."

"I'm going to ask you another question."

"Here we go."

"Why are you so opposed to me?"

"You asked me this question this morning."

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"I'm trying to understand you better, that's all."

"I thought you said I was hopeless."

"Don't you want to be understood?" he whispered. "At least by someone?"

Tara opened her mouth to answer, but she couldn't find the words. Her mouth suddenly tasted like ash.

_Too much smoking?_

"Why do you _want_ to understand me?" she finally managed.

Link turned on his side and curled up like a child, and she could see him falling asleep. She could also see his calloused hand wrapped around the necklace hanging around his neck, one that she hadn't noticed before.

"I can't trust someone I don't understand," he yawned. "And I hate not trusting people."

It was then, as Link fell asleep beside her, that Tara understood why she was so irritated by him.

He was too pure.

Too innocent.

Too virtuous.

Too selfless.

Too moral.

Too goddamn kind.

Too much of everything that Tara simply wasn't.

"Good night, Taralisse."

It took every ounce of willpower in her body to keep from leaning down and emptying her pipe on his face.

Nobody had called her Taralisse since her sister died.

* * *

Link had the dream again that night. The one in which he drowned in a lake of fire while the silhouette of a man stood saying, over and over as the flames burned Link's skin, "Time. Time. Time is alive." It started out the same way, with his absolute contentment. And then it progressed in the same way, with the fire getting with each swing of that terrible green pocket watch in the shadow's hand.

"Time."

Even in his dreams, Link was starting to hate that word and wonder if time existed at all. Perhaps it was his insanity directing his thoughts, but he couldn't help but wonder. This time, the dream was a little bit different, because he decided to voice those thoughts out loud.

"Is time real?" he asked, struggling through the burn.

"Time is alive," responded the shadow, in the same smooth, yet thunderous voice as always. Then Link realized that when the shadow spoke, he felt the same warmth that he did while he walked, with the presence following him.

Again, in the middle of the night, Link sat up screaming and in a sweat. He held his face in his hands for a few moments to try to erase the images, but in the end he knew it was useless. So he just sat and trembled, disoriented and frightened and paranoid about the pain that he thought might attack him at any moment.

Suddenly, he realized that Tara was sitting beside him. Not sleeping, not laying, but sitting up. Staring at him as messy strands of her deep purple hair fell across her face and around her bloodshot eyes. But in the darkness of the caravan, on that single cot on which they slept, as Link shook with the remains of an all-too-real nightmare, Tara did something strange. Slowly, she began shaking her head. Her lips slightly parted, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes glistening with...sympathy?

No, he realized. It wasn't sympathy.

It was something even stranger.

Tara's eyes were glistening with tears.

"Why are you crying?" he murmured. He couldn't believe that was his voice.

"You kept saying it, over and over," she replied. The expression on her face frightened him. It was like she had fallen into a trance of sorrow, of grief, of vacancy. Like she was possessed. Her voice was stagnant and still and hollow. "You kept saying, 'Time is alive.'"

He repeated what he had said in the dream.

"I don't even know if time is real."

"Me neither." Her strange little smile trembled. "But it _is_ alive."

And then she said something that made Link's heart drop all the way to his feet.

"Time is alive, and time is like a tempest."

Then she lay down, turned her back to him, and fell asleep within moments.


	13. Time Obsessed with the Hero

**Sup. **

**So...chapter thirteen...not much to say. **

**(The fun really begins next chapter, I'd say.) **

**(Get excited.)**

**(Rave if you'd like.)**

**(I am.) **

* * *

Chapter Thirteen: Time Obsessed with the Hero

Link sat on the edge of the caravan the next morning, eating another apple with a slice of cheese, watching Tara with menacingly narrowed eyes. They hadn't said a single word to each other all morning, but he couldn't sense anything from her. She was packing her things, braiding her hair, popping chocolates into her mouth, as if she didn't notice him. And he couldn't stop staring, wondering with fear in his heart and fear in his eyes what in Nayru's name had happened the night before. He was trying to see through her again. And again, it wasn't working. For Link's purposes, she might as well have been ten different people.

Suddenly, Tara looked over at him, glared.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.

Link pursed his lips, bit into the apple while he tried to decide how to approach her in a manner that might actually get him answers.

"How did you sleep?"

She paused and continued to glare.

"...Fine, I suppose."

"Any weird dreams?" he persisted.

Tara's lips turned into a smile, and he thought perhaps he had broken through.

"None that I can remember," she shrugged. "I slept like a rock, actually."

"Y-you did?"

"Yes. Why do you even care?"

"You don't remember _anything_ weird happening last night?"

Tara sighed and turned away to finish her packing.

"No. Why, did something happen?"

Link averted his gaze and did everything in his power to keep from screaming.

"No. Nothing."

The worst part was that Tara seemed completely genuine. There wasn't that gleam in her eyes, the one saying that she was hiding something. Link knew that she wasn't lying. She really couldn't remember what had happened.

That was the first time Link truly had the feeling that this was bigger than he had ever imagined. He was about to immerse himself in something large, something significant, something unbelievably frightening. Perhaps the most frightening he had ever done. And it was the first time Link truly had the feeling that Tara was, in many more senses than one, not normal.

* * *

Tara couldn't stop thinking about what Link had said.

_Don't you want to be understood? At least by someone?_

She wondered if he were right. Perhaps she did not want to be understood.

Not that it mattered, for she had long ago given up the hope that she would ever be understood. Still, his way of looking at things intrigued her. As odd as he was, as strange as the questions he asked were, as disgustingly devoted...she was fascinated. He was like an entirely new research subject, something about which she could publish paper after paper.

_The Hero Obsessed with Time,_ she thought with a smile. _And time obsessed with the hero, apparently. _

She could see his nerves becoming more taut as the presence—which they both knew was there—grew stronger. With each step they took toward the temple, that presence grew warmer, closer, heavier.

Of course, Tara couldn't feel it. Not at that moment, anyway. But she knew the signs. She could see Link wrestling with his own thoughts, his own worries that he was finally descending into insanity's warm embrace.

They were nearing the entrance of Faron Woods by the middle of the day, when the sun was at its highest and its hottest. She felt the beads of sweat clinging to her skin and hated it, but the thought that she was finally going to see the Temple of Time kept her moving at a pace that surprised even her. She kept pace easily with Link, who walked with purpose. His goal was spread out before him, far on the horizon, just within reach, perhaps. And suddenly, she found herself wanting to know what it was.

As they stepped into the greenery, Tara ate a piece of chocolate and lit her pipe.

"My old home isn't too far from here," he said.

"Ordon Village, am I right?"

"Wow, yeah. You are."

"Don't act so surprised. You're not the only one who's traversed Hyrule."

"Have you ever visited?"

"No."

"But you've probably been to the temple loads of times," he pointed out. "It never crossed your mind to visit the nearest town?"

"Sure it did. I just never visited."

"Not even for a special clock or something?"

Tara chuckled and blew her smoke out into the murky forest air, watching it disappear into the obscured sky.

"Now that I think about it, I should have visited."

"There's not much to do, I admit. But it's the only place I've ever really called home."

"What about your fancy old castle?"

"I've never felt comfortable in the castle."

"How odd. You spend all your time there, you'd think—"

"It's not mine," he said. "Well, it shouldn't be. It belongs to someone else."

Tara thought that she was catching on.

"Nobody who's alive," she said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Tara saw Link clench his fists. She saw his jaw become tense, his gaze directed toward the ground, the color fading from his flushed cheeks. Then, in a rush of complete and utter understanding, she remembered Shad's words.

_He's trying to bring someone back to life._

"Link," she said.

He didn't move. He had stopped walking. He just stood staring at the ground. He was practically trembling.

"You loved her. You loved her a lot."

His silence was her confirmation. Now she understood almost everything.

"That's the love you were talking about. The burden."

It frightened her how similar they were.

"You see right through me," he murmured. Tara didn't respond. "Nobody has ever seen right through me. Nobody but her."

"Maybe it's payback for you seeing through everyone else."

"Everyone except you."

She fell silent, for she felt something terrible was coming. She just stood watching him, smoking her pipe, preparing to go on the defensive.

Always on the defensive.  
"How much do you know about the Hero of Time?"

It was a question she hadn't been expecting.

"As much as there is to know, I suppose. He's a terribly elusive figure."

"Do you believe he existed?"

"To be honest, I don't know. It's all rumors. Word of mouth. There's no way to know. Not with the course that history took."

"Do you believe he existed?" he repeated coldly.

Tara, for the first time in his presence, wanted to be honest. She didn't know why.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I want to believe that travelling through time is possible."

Link began walking again, but the air around him was steely. Almost frightening.

"I had a dream last night," he said. "A strange recurring dream."

Tara opened her mouth, to tell him to stop talking because she didn't want to hear, but she couldn't find the words.

_I've heard this all before. I don't want to hear it again._

"Maybe you can help me figure out what it means."

"I'm a scientist, babe, not a dream-interpreter."

He continued relentlessly.

"I'm floating in a lake of fire. But it's cool. Not like real fire."

Tara thought her head was going to explode.

"And there's a man—"

"Please stop."

"—covered in shadows. And he has a pocket watch and a voice like water. And he swings his pocket watch and there's a horrible ticking," he explained, gesturing as if he were swinging a pocket watch, "and he says, 'Time,' over and over until the flames get hot and I burn. Then he says, 'Time is alive.'"

"'Time is like a tempest.'"

"'Time is like a..."

His voice trailed off as she cursed herself for letting the words slip from her mouth. She hadn't meant to say it—to finish his thought. But she had, almost like a reflex, and now he was staring at her with his mouth open and his eyes wide and glimmering with fear. She couldn't look him in the eye. They had both stopped, but Tara wanted to just run. Away from the conversation, away from the terrible memories buried deep inside that were beginning to resurface, away from his befuddled gaze on her face.

Tara's pipe had gone out, and she was trying to decide whether to relight it. Perhaps her hands were shaking too much. For Link had just brought both of their silent apprehensions directly into the open, where they could sit and fester and make her tremble like a baby bird.

"T-time is like a tempest," he finally stuttered. "How in Nayru's name did you know that?"

Tara, for the first time in years, wanted to bury her face in her hands and cry like a baby. But that was not an option. She gripped the handle of her pipe more tightly, to the point that she felt her palm becoming white, and she turned her gaze up to the sky. She wasn't sure what anybody up there would be able to do for her (they had never done anything for her before), so she wasn't entirely sure why she looked there of all places.

She hated not knowing what to say.

"Taralisse," he hissed. "How did you know that?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like you calling me that."

He continued to stare with narrowed eyes as she continued to smoke at the sky. Every time he called her by her full name, she had to keep from wincing.

"You're not normal," he said.

"Thanks."

"I understand nothing." His voice had dropped to a whisper. An awful whisper that made her skin crawl. "I understand nothing, but you understand everything. Why?"

"Unfortunately, no. I don't understand everything."

"Enough to make me feel paranoid."

"...Paranoid?"

"Like you can see inside my head," he trembled. "Or worse, inside my heart. You know about the pedestal, you know about the dream. I hate that feeling. Like my thoughts aren't my own."

"I can't read your mind."

"You might as well be able to." He raised his eyebrows. His glare was beginning to burn into her soul. "Now answer my question. How did you know about what he says in my dream?"

She was cornered. But she was not about to let herself be trapped. Finally, she lowered her chin to look inside of his eyes. Perhaps it was time to feed him a little bit, just enough to satisfy him for now but not keep him full. She wasn't ready for that yet. Her lips tingled with the words she was about to say.

"I've seen the dream before," she said. It tasted like acid.

Link paused, blinked, as if he were having trouble comprehending.

"You've...you've seen it? As in you've had it?"

"No," Tara sighed. "I've actually never had it. But my older sister used to have it."

She began walking, expecting him to follow.

"Before she died, that is."

After that, she was silent. And nothing—nothing at all—was going to make her open up any further. And somehow, Link understood that, because he didn't press. He simply walked, a few steps behind her, surrounded by an even more tense air than before. But it was a cracked air. Something had broken between them, she could feel it. She had mixed emotions about it. But for now, it didn't matter. It was time to draw back into her shell. She had fed him enough, and it had drained her.

* * *

Of course, Link couldn't sleep that night. He just lay playing with his ring. For many reasons. He could feel the Temple of Time so close by. They would reach it in an hour's time if they left at dawn, and he could hear it calling his name. Or was that his imagination? He had lost his ability to tell the difference. And Tara was sleeping beside him, silent and still shrouded in mystery. She had said one single thing that was more than he had ever gotten from her, but it had opened the door to even more questions.

_Who was her sister?_

_ How did she die?_

_ Why did she have the same exact dream that I'm having now?_

The presence had grown stronger. Now, as he lay in a tent (in an area within the forest for passing merchants), trying to sleep, it felt as if there were an entire other person sleeping beside him. Snuggled up close, full of warmth—so much warmth, in fact, that it was almost painful. Like a burning sensation.

He decided to go on a short walk. Not to clear his head, because he knew there was absolutely no hope of that. But he enjoyed fresh air and since he couldn't sleep anyway, watching the sparkling night sky might do him some good. And, for some reason, he decided to take his sword. Moving quietly so not to wake up his strange companion, he tiptoed out of the tent and took a deep breath. He almost wished that he could steal her pipe from her bag and use it for a couple hours.

Link knew he couldn't walk far, because he had to make sure the tent was within his sight at all times. So, with heavy limbs and heavy heart and heavy mind, he dragged himself forward a few steps. The air was cold and biting, but that felt good against his skin after feeling the burning for so long. But there was still that phantom pressure of the hand on his shoulder.

Everything was becoming more and more jumbled in his head, to the point that he could barely comprehend his own thoughts. He was relying once again on the idea that in the end, he would figure something out. Everything would make sense soon enough. That was always how it had been. Things seemed confusing at the beginning, but they would become clear. Like always.

Suddenly, Link saw a familiar shimmer a few meters away. He almost turned around and ran when he saw it. There, sitting and staring at him, was the ethereal image of a golden wolf. It was nearly motionless, emanated light of patience and wisdom, silently calling out to him. Link's heart stopped.

_But...I haven't seen you for so long..._

He cautiously took a few steps forward and, when he was close enough to look into the wolf's red eye, drew his sword. Just before the wolf jumped forward and pressed its nose to his forehead, he turned over his shoulder to look at the tent. It was still where he had left it, and there was no sign of Tara being awake. So, feeling a little bit more calm, he succumbed to the wolf's embrace and let himself be transported.

"Link."

That voice, like an infinite echo, was so familiar to him, yet hearing it still made him feel anxious. Link was standing in an area of pure white, with the shadow of a castle looming in the distance. And there, standing before him as he always had, was a tall skeletal figure in the most beautiful, elaborate armor, carrying a rusted sword in his hand and glowing with an ancient shimmer. Link was able to look him in the eye and tighten his grip on his Master Sword.

"Hello."

He bowed his head to his ancestor.

"I can see it in your eyes," the Hero's Shade said. "Your courage has grown. And with courage has determination grown, as well."

"You've already taught me everything you know," Link replied. "Why are you here?"

The hero paused and let the tip of his sword graze the ground.

"Are you going to try to persuade me? Not to go into the temple? Not to try to bring her back?"

"Young hero," he interrupted. "You know who I am, do you not?"

"I do."

"Who am I? Say it."

"You're the Hero of Time."

"Yes. And as such, I know what it means to twist time in my hands, to bend it to my will, to use it to my advantage even more so that I can use my sword or my mind to my advantage."

Link could hardly keep from letting the relief show on his features.

"You're not here to dissuade me?" he asked.

The warrior shook his head solemnly.

"No. I am not here to dissuade you. That would make me quite the hypocrite, do you not agree?"

"Then why?"

"I am here to give you the last piece of advice I have," he said. "I never imagined that I would have to give such advice, but the time has come. The Temple of Time is calling your name—I can see that on your skin. But you need to know something about the temple."

Link suddenly felt his stomach drop, for a reason he couldn't pinpoint. Perhaps it was the way that echo had fluctuated, perhaps the way that the Hero of Time had shifted his weight in a manner that Link had never seen before.

"The temple is a monster," he said. Link's mind became even more jumbled. "The temple is a true monster. Not the kind you can fight with weapons. While it's true I was eventually able to harness the temple's power for myself, before I could, it controlled me as a puppeteer controls his toys. It had my life in its grasp, and it twisted it to its will. I came dangerously close to losing my sanity to that temple. It is an unimaginably horrible feeling, losing control over your own life. But that feeling...the temple thrives off of it."

Link's chills were becoming dangerous and unavoidable.

"I just wish for you understand that. You need to reach forward now, grab your sanity and your peace of mind and every speck of life that you can. Do it so that when the temple tries to rip it all away, your grip is strong enough to hold on."

Link could not even bring himself to nod. This was the first time someone had truly made him understand what he was trying to do. He respected this spirit more than anything or anyone else. And here he was, not discouraging. Simply warning him, like a concerned parent who had already come to terms with the inevitable decisions of her child.

"Be careful, young hero," he said. "Do not let yourself be forgotten at the hands of time. As I was."

And with that, Link found himself back in Faron Woods. As soon as his vision became clear and he understood where he was, his legs gave way and he fell to his knees, where he sat and stared at the ground and tried, in any way possible, to prepare for this monster he was about to fight. And when he finally managed to fall asleep that night, he had the dream with the shadow and the fire and the ticking again.

* * *

The next morning, as if nothing had happened (for he pretended that nothing _had_ happened), he and Tara began making their way toward the temple.

They were there by noon, and Link knew that all he had to do was put his sword into the pedestal and open the door.

* * *

**Yeah Link. Put your sword in that pedestal. **

**Sorry.**

** SEE YOU NEXT TIME. **


	14. The Clawshot and the Window

**RAAAAVEEEEEEEEEE**

**Chapter fourteen whaduuuup.**

**So I'm really excited about this chapter because now things (in my opinion) are getting exciting. This chapter was also super fun to write. The scene of this chapter was the first one that popped into my head when I was deciding to write this sequel, so I essentially planned the entire story around this scene. It holds a special place in my heart. **

**Even if it (canonically) doesn't make much sense...**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

Chapter Fourteen: The Clawshot and the Window

When Link glanced over at Tara, standing beside him, he almost smiled. She was shaking in anticipation and the beads of sweat were glistening on her skin. They were standing in front of the Door of Time, preparing themselves to enter, and he could see that Tara was having trouble holding back her excitement. She had told him—this was what she had been waiting for. This was the reason she had agreed to help him, the reason she had joined him on his journey. The reason, it seemed to him, that she was alive. She was bouncing on her heels, gripping her notebook to her chest as if it were a baby, biting down on her lips. Finally, Link took a step backward.

"Would you do the honors?" he asked.

She whirled to face him and her smile was larger than he had ever seen it. She wasn't the same person anymore. She had transformed (even momentarily) into a child, ready to receive the gift of a lifetime.

"Y-you mean it?"

"Of course. Open the door."

Tara paused and continued staring for a few seconds. He saw her drinking in her surroundings, making sure every detail found its place in her memory. Then she stepped forward and lifted her hands, pressed her palms against the stone door. He saw her shiver, close her eyes...then she opened them and with a deep breath, pushed open the door.

Together, they stared at the gray, mirage-like film in front of them. Link had seen it before and was more than ready to enter, but he looked at Tara, and saw that she was holding her breath. Afraid, maybe, of something. He put his hand in the middle of her back, whispering, "Go ahead. Step inside."

Tara did it. She stepped forward, back in time, into the temple that she had spent nearly her entire life studying. And Link, gripping the hilt of his sword as a reflex, stepped in behind her. It looked the same as it did before. A slight pang ran through his body when he remembered that the last time he'd been here, it had been with Zelda.

It was true that it looked the same, but something had changed. The atmosphere was...heavier, the air thicker. He had the strange urge to turn, walk out, and close the door behind him forever. He wasn't sure if Tara could feel it; if she did, she showed no sign, for she was too immersed in the surroundings.

"Oh my gods..." she gasped. "Th-this is..."

"Incredible, isn't it?"

"I don't think there's a word for it, really."

She ran from wall to wall, laughing and smiling and jumping and twirling, running her fingers along the statues and the floor and reaching up toward the high ceiling. Every so often she would pull out her notebook and scribble something down, but he couldn't imagine her writing anything understandable with her hands shaking like that. In that vast room, her laughter echoed and, somehow, made him smile, too. He just stood at the entrance of the temple and watched her, still wondering who she really was. Then, suddenly, she stopped in the center of the room and turned to face him.

"So many of the missing pieces in my research are coming together," she said. "But even so, seeing this place...there are more puzzles than I had ever imagined."

"If all of the puzzles were solved, life wouldn't be the same."

"Much more boring."

"Right."

"What I mean to say is that there's probably no way I can help you," she sighed. "Not now, at least. I'd need to study this place—"

"So study it."

"—for a long time."

Link turned his face and his fingers tightened, as if he were walking into an enemy's territory, around the hilt of his sword. Something about the hilt was more electric, hotter than usual. Then he began to think. He walked forward until he was standing beside her in the center of the room, eyes moving from corner to corner as he forced the gears in his brain to move. Faster, stronger, more powerful, so that he could figure out what was happening. There were so many thoughts running through his head that he was afraid his mind might burst.

"I'm guessing it'll have something to do with that pedestal over there," Tara said. Link nodded absentmindedly, eyes still wandering. "I can't believe I'm actually here."

Different ideas were flowing in and out of his head as Tara, her mouth suddenly full of chocolate, made her way to where the lonely pedestal stood in the center of the room. She knelt beside it and her bag collided heavily with the floor, creating an eerie echo drifting around the temple. Then, she took out her black notebook and began scribbling. She seemed to be looking at the pedestal from every angle, drinking in every detail. Link watched her for a few moments and clung to any hope that she might figure something out, all the while knowing that he was too impatient to really wait.

While she knelt, completely distracted, Link decided it was time. The ideas were still inseparable in his mind, but he wanted to take a step forward. He quietly slipped out of his ordinary white tunic, reached into his bag, and pulled out the green tunic—the one that made his heart ache. But he knew that if he wanted to do this, he needed to do it right. He hurried so that Tara wouldn't turn around and find him standing, in the Temple of Time, with no clothes on. Somehow, slipping into the ancient green garment and placing the light hat on his head felt more natural than he had been expecting.

But as he adjusted the tunic and replaced the sword on his back, he felt the hands on his shoulder grow even heavier. As if the person following him were trying to hold him back from something, anything, everything.

_It's no use,_ he thought, _nothing can hold me back now. _

"Whoa," Tara said when she saw him. "What is—?"

"The Hero's tunic," he replied. "My real tunic."

"Your 'real' tunic, huh?" she smirked. "How interesting. Why are you wearing it?"

"If I'm going to do this, I have to do this right."

"You're serious about this. Like, really serious."

"As serious as I can be."

Tara cocked her hip and watched him silently for a few moments. As if she were waiting for him to say something else.

"I had the dream again last night," he blurted. He hadn't meant to say that, but he did. Perhaps with the subconscious hope that she would respond with more information. But, as he should have guessed, he wasn't so lucky.

"Yeah? You want a medal?"

"I was just hoping you could help me—"

"I can't, all right?" she hissed. "The only person who could have helped you was my sister, and she's gone."

There was fire in her eyes and tension in her muscles. Link knew that she was lying to him. And he knew that she knew that he could see through her lies. At that point, it was a silent conversation they had multiple times a day.

"What was her name?" he asked.

"Nia."

"That's pretty."

"Yeah."

Tara stuffed another chocolate (he didn't know where she was getting it from) into her mouth and turned her back to him. She continued with her studies of the pedestal. Without saying another word or asking another question, Link stepped up and peeked over her shoulder. In her notebook, she had sketched out the entire room in minute detail—every stained window and every ridge and every alcove was accounted for. And along the margins of the page were equations and numbers and letters and quotes that made his head spin. With every moment that passed, she wrote more. Then, she turned the page to a blank one and began to sketch the pedestal.

"You're good at sketching."

"_Shh!_ I'm trying to concentrate."

"Sorry, I—"

"Just stop talking."

He forced his mouth shut, hiding an amused smile, but his mind began to wander. And finally, it found its way back to his goal: finding and bringing back Zelda. He looked up at the windows and found himself wondering what was behind them. There was sunlight pouring in through the glass, but he couldn't see a sun. He could hear birds chirping, but he couldn't see the birds. He wanted to know where the sun was shining and where the birds were flying, and he wanted to know if he could bring Zelda back.

_The first step is to find a way out of here,_ he thought, _then I can take the next step._

While Tara continued scribbling and grumbling to herself, his legs began to carry him aimlessly. He looked at the windows, the ceilings, the statues, wracked his brain for anything that could help him. And the whole time, the hands were on his shoulders.

Then, for the first time, he felt a breath in his ear.

He turned around and jumped back, swatting as if there were a bee flying around his head. But, as always, there was nothing and nobody there. Just his declining sanity. He thought back to what Renado had told him: _Don't ignore the warning of the goddesses._

He had already gone far enough. The goddess's warnings weren't working. This presence could follow him for the rest of his life and it wouldn't matter, because he was going through with this no matter what. He needed Zelda back in his life. He felt nothing but angst and grief and sorrow each morning and each night and each second in between, and he wanted nothing more than to feel her touch and look into her eyes and say, "I love you." In person, when he knew she wasn't just a dream. He wanted her to wipe his tears, stroke his hair, kiss him in the beautiful way that she used to. He wanted to rip the ring off his neck, stop holding onto it, and slip it onto her waiting finger. He wanted her more than anything.

As his eyes wandered, they fell upon the carved claws, bursting out of the walls above the windows. And he couldn't help but notice how much they looked like hooks.

"Babe, this shit is really complicated, I don't think..."

Tara had started speaking, but Link had stopped listening. His eyes were fixed onto one of the claws. He dropped his own bag to the floor and, without moving his eyes even for a moment, bent down and rummaged around inside. Finally, his fingers fell on a familiar item. He hadn't used it in ages. But it was time again for it to be useful. Link was vaguely aware of Tara speaking to him, saying his name, as he pulled out his Clawshot.

"I haven't done this for a while," he mumbled to himself. "Let's hope I've still got good aim."

He closed his right eye, lifted his left arm, and aimed for the claw. And then, as he let his weapon fly, he finally understood what Tara was saying. Because, at that point, she was screaming.

"_Link! What the hell are you doing?! Do you have any idea what could happen?" _

He flew through the air with a familiar rush, felt his hair blowing around his face, couldn't help but smile. The adrenaline came to a sudden halt when he arrived at his destination and placed the soles of his boots on the window to stabilize himself. Glancing backward over his shoulder, he saw that he was significantly high above the ground—but he could still see Tara's red, fuming face pretty clearly.

"_You IDIOT!_" she screamed. "Get down, _now._"

"I need to figure out how to bring her back."

"Yeah, yeah, I get that," she said, stomping her feet. "But doing stupid things is not the way! We have to look at it logically!"

"I can't wait that long."

"_Why did you bring me if you're not even going to listen to me?"_

Link wasn't sure he had an answer to that, so he just shrugged, which made her even more furious.

"_YOU ASS! GET DOWN!" _

He turned back to the window and tried to tune her out because somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was right. But he didn't want to wait long enough for him to be convinced.

At that moment, Link made a split second decision.

_I hope this works. _

Slowly, he lowered himself down a couple feet until he was hanging freely only by the wire of the clawshot, facing the window. The presence breathed in his ear again, and he could've sworn he heard it whisper, "It will destroy you."

He pretended that he didn't hear it.

Tara continued screaming, waving her arms frantically and calling him vulgar names, but he had made his decision. He swung himself backwards, pushed himself back using the window, until he was confident that he had gained enough speed.

Then, rushing toward the window, he kicked his legs through the glass.

"Link_, NO!"_

He saw sunlight and green landscapes for a single moment before a strong, painful gust of wind pushed him back through the broken window. He fell for what seemed like miles and miles and miles, and before his back collided with the ground and he lost consciousness, he heard a single, bloodcurdling scream.

It was a scream that he recognized.

It was the scream he had heard when Zelda had died.

* * *

His eyes opened to pure whiteness, and he wanted to open his mouth and scream. He was afraid of the brightness and the fact that he could see nothing but white. And, though he wasn't truly aware of it, he did scream. It was loud and desperate.

"Shh."

The voice that responded was soft and made his entire body feel warm. Slowly, a silhouette began emerging against the whiteness, arms wrapped around him as he lay in its lap. He couldn't tell if he were still screaming, but when he opened his mouth, it felt dry and parched.

"Shh, my darling, shh."

Her face became the only clear thing. That gentle, soothing smile was on her lips and she was running her fingers along the sides of his face, brushing away the strands of hair falling across his eyes. Her skin was warm and cool all at the same time. It made him want to stop screaming.

In the whiteness and the turmoil, Zelda held Link in her lap, cradling him and shushing him. She bent down and placed her lips against his forehead, and her grip around him tightened.

"You're safe here," she said. "You're safe."

"Please don't let go."

"Of course I won't."

"Do you promise?"

He felt her tears falling down against his cheeks as she moved her mouth down from his forehead to his lips.

"I promise."

He reached up to stroke her hair because he hadn't done that in so long, and he wanted to feel how silky it was between his fingers, but something strange happened. She sat up and grabbed his hand, and when she did that, the white began to fade. Her face began to fade, as well. Fade and transform. All of a sudden, he was laying in the center of the Temple of Time not in Zelda's lap, but in Tara's lap. And the first thing he noticed was that he had never seen her look so sad. She was holding his extended hand and gazing down at him with shimmering eyes.

"...Taralisse."

"It's just me," she murmured. "It's just me."

She squeezed his hand ever so slightly, and he was unbelievably confused.

"What happened? What's going on? Why are you holding my hand and looking at me like that?"

"Shh, just relax," she said. "Don't ask questions. Just relax."

Link couldn't remember the last time he felt so disoriented. He didn't know what he was doing there, what Tara was doing there, and most importantly, where Zelda had gone. Why she had disappeared and whether she would come back. The thing that confused him the most was why Tara was holding his hand, and why she was looking at him so empathetically, and why she was speaking to him in such a silky voice. He tried to sit up and make sense of his surroundings, but as soon as he moved, he felt pain erupt through every limb in his body. He opened his mouth to scream again, but before he could, Tara squeezed his hand more tightly and shushed him.

"Lay back down. Stop moving. Please just trust me."

"I don't know what's going on," he said through clenched teeth, shaking his head.

"I know, hon, I know. Let me take care of your injuries first."

Only when she said that did he realize that he was bare-chested, and his skin was covered in scars and bruises. In her free hand she was holding a handkerchief (presumably from her never-ending bag). As he lay back, as she told him to, Tara began to dab his wounds with the handkerchief. It was wet and cold, and it felt like heaven pressed against his skin. At that point, he barely had the energy to lift his head.

"You're such a fool," she laughed coldly. Her voice was shaking, and that confused him, too. "Such a terrible fool."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, I'm sure you are."

Her hands were much more gentle than he had been expecting. As relief came to him in a physical sense, his mind began to clear up as well, and he was remembering what had happened.

"I broke the window," he said. Then he glanced over at the window and was confused again because the window, which he was sure he had broken, was perfectly in tact. "I could've sworn that I broke it."

"You did."

"Then why—?"

"Shh!"

An especially painful burn flared up when she pressed the handkerchief, and he sucked in a breath.

"You need to stop talking for me to finish this!" she sighed.

"I'm sorry. I'm just confused."

She sighed again, but more heavily and more sadly.

"I know you are."

"I hate being confused."

"I know."

"Can I just ask one thing?"

"I guess I can't stop you."

"Where did you get the water for the handkerchief? You didn't...you didn't spit on it, did you?"

Tara finally cracked the tiniest smile, but avoided his eyes and concentrated on his injuries.

"No. I went out and used water from the grove."

"Oh." He paused. "Thank you."

Tara didn't respond. They lay there in silence as she pressed, then pressed again, all the while holding his hand and focusing her gaze on his chest. Link realized how tired he was and wanted to throw his head back and sleep, but he knew he wouldn't be able to. There was too much on his mind for any sleep.

Finally, when she had managed to at least dab every single spot, Tara decided to speak again. She let go of his hand and sat back on her heels.

"You kept saying her name," she whispered sadly. "And you were screaming so loudly. You looked at me and you thought I was her."

"She was right there for a few moments. I really thought you were her."

"Yeah."

"Taralisse?" She turned her face, as if she lacked the courage to look into his eyes. "What happened? Why isn't the window broken?"

"It's...complicated."

"Please tell me. Please. I'm begging you."

Tara began absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair, not truly paying attention and not truly focused. He reached up and grabbed her wrist, held it until she finally looked into his eyes.

"What do you know that I don't?"

She bit her lower lip, but after a few eternal moments, she finally spoke.

"The temple is alive," she whispered. "The temple is alive, and it's fighting you."

Link just stared, and she looked over at the window.

"If you didn't have the hero's blood running through your veins, you would be dead."


	15. Old Crest

**Idrk more recently I've become obsessed with the AsheixShad pairing it's just really cute. **

**So I'm sharing that love with you. **

**Also, for those who have been wondering, the story in its entirety will be 34 chapters. Not as long as a couple of my others, but long enough! ALMOST HALFWAY THERE. **

**Quick thank you to all you readers for sticking with me, I always appreciate it. And know that I read each and every review, and I am grateful for each and every review.**

**So keep reviewing!**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen: Old Crest

"They are getting angrier and angrier by the minute," Shad sighed.

"That's their problem."

"B-but they're going to get restless and curious and _then_ what?"

Ashei squeezed his hand as she walked beside him. They had decided to take a stroll through Castle Town, to clear their heads from the chaos of the castle. Shad was at his wit's end, and it had only been three days. The entire kingdom had lit up in flames when they had announced the indefinite postponement of the knighting ceremony—after all, it was something to which they had been looking forward for months. They were ready for their new ruler.

_Unfortunately, their new ruler is not ready for them. _

"Listen, Shad," she continued. "We just have to hang on a little bit longer, yeah? Then when Link decides to come back to the real world, he'll deal with all of this stuff."

"W-will he be able to, you think?"

"Please!" Ashei scoffed. "That guy could probably bullshit his way out of death."

"You're so eloquent. As always."

Smiling and finding excuses to walk more closely, they stepped along the cobblestones with no real destination in mind. They were simply walking. And, while they did it, they looked like sore thumbs. Shad had considered changing out of his formal attire, but in the end, he hadn't. And Ashei always looked as if she were about to run into the mountains, with her gloves and blue and white clothing. Together, they looked terribly unusual. Shad knew, of course, that Ashei didn't mind, and he didn't, either. So they walked.

"Let's get lunch," she suddenly said.

"All right. Any particular restaurant in mind?"

"How about that one?"

"Very well, darling."

They stopped at a small café specializing in sandwiches and Castle Town's famous black tea. It was small, but it was comfortable, and Shad did love sandwiches and tea. They sat down inside, even though it was a beautiful day out, because both of them preferred the atmosphere inside. It was like yet another escape from everything.

"I still don't understand how you are so calm about all of this," Shad said as he scoured the menu. Across from him, Ashei shrugged.

"It'll work itself out. It always does, yeah?"

"I'm so terribly worried about him."

"I know. Me, too."

"But...you trust him?"

"He's gotten himself out of a lot of bad situations, that's for sure," she laughed. "And once he has a goal in mind, it would take all hell to stop him."

"You don't think he can actually do this, do you?" he ventured. His voice was small, as if he were afraid of her reaction. In a way, he was.

She paused, tapping her fingers on the table.

"I don't know," she said. "My specialty is the mountains, yeah? I know close to nothing about time."

"But do you really think the goddesses would...allow it?"

"No."

"N-no?"

Ashei nodded, staring straight into his eyes.

"No. I don't think he can do it. Once somebody is dead, they're dead. Done. That's how the world works, yeah? I don't think it'll make an exception just because he's some chosen one."

"I suppose not..."

"Would you stop worrying? Everything will turn out the way it's supposed to. I promise."

As she said that, a small smirk began to tug at the corners of her lips, and Shad felt her foot press against his leg beneath the table. Even inside, where everything was warm and there was a cup of tea in his hands, he got shivers.

"The one thing you need to do right now is relax," she murmured.

"And make sure the Royal Council doesn't riot."

"Eh, trifles."

She pressed her foot harder, and somehow, hearing her voice and seeing her face and feeling the heat of the tea on his lips, he did feel a bit more relaxed. Enough so that he could let his mind wander and smile at Ashei, wondering if this was what love felt like.

They ate together and joked together and found themselves laughing, and Shad tried remembering the last time he had laughed that loudly and freely. He thought perhaps it had been the last time he and Link had gone out to lunch like this. But it was often rare for Link to show even the slightest hint of happiness. He had grown much more serious and grave over the past year. Then again, so had Shad.

Just as Shad and Ashei began arguing over who was going to pay the bill (Shad desperately wanted to, but Ashei desperately wanted to as well), the door opened and a strange wind blew through the room. Every single customer turned his or her head to face the entrance, and standing there with nothing but a shawl and a hunched back was an old woman. And yet it seemed like she had brought the whole world inside with her. She looked around momentarily, letting her eyes adjust to her surroundings, and then she shuffled forward and pulled up a chair and sat at the same table as Ashei and Shad. They looked at each other, both a little bit baffled.

"H-hello," he greeted. She looked at him and smiled with her small, gray eyes.

"Hello there."

"Do we know you?" Ashei ventured.

Beneath the table, Shad kicked her lightly. But the woman was unfazed.

"No. I don't believe you do."

Unsure of what to do, Shad extended a menu and his hand.

"My name is Shad," he said. The strange woman stared at his hand for a couple moments, took it in both of hers, and then smiled.

"That's a wonderful name. My name is Carlotta."

Then she took the menu and began to look through it.

"Tell me, Shad," she said, "how is the tomato and mozzarella?"

"Superb."

"I'll have that then. And who is this beautiful young woman?"

"The name's Ashei," she replied. Shad could see her trying to force a smile. He knew she wouldn't be impressed with the antics of this somehow charming woman. "Sorry if I come off a bit rough."

"Not at all." Carlotta reached across the table and touched her cheek, as if she were a long lost granddaughter. Shad had to keep from bursting into laughter at the astounded look on Ashei's face. "You are so beautiful."

"Th...thank you."

"Your hair is so black, but your eyes so bright."

Shad and Ashei looked at each other, he grinning and gazing at her from behind his thick spectacles.

"My hair was once dark like that," she sighed, "but has since grown very thin and white."

The three of them fell into silence. The old woman waited for her order to be taken while, beneath the table, Shad and Ashei's feet continued to collide. He was awfully confused as to why this woman, whom he had never seen before, had decided to sit with them for no apparent reason. But she seemed so content and natural, as if she were just meant to be there. When he looked at Ashei, though, she just looked a bit disoriented. He wasn't sure exactly how she felt about this woman.

Calmly, Carlotta ordered her food and sat nibbling on her sandwich while Shad tried to start some kind of conversation. He was a generally awkward person, but even he could sense the tension of the situation. And then, he noticed the embroidery on her shawl. It was something only the most observant person would notice, someone with an eye for detail and a mind like Shad's. There, embroidered on the borders of that thin, beautiful shawl, was the crest of the Royal Family. But the way that it was sewn was very specific. Just from looking at it, he knew that it was old. That crest had not been used for at least forty years.

"Excuse me," he said. "That shawl...it's very nice."

"Thank you, young man. It was a gift, you know! A very special one." Her eyes glistened with pride and her smile grew larger.

"Yes, I can tell. That crest is very special indeed."

"Oh, you recognize it?"

"I do."

"How impressive. Not many people remember this old thing nowadays."

"I hope you don't mind my asking," he continued, leaning forward, "but I haven't seen that crest in reality, only in books. And the only way one could have gotten it was through ties with the Royal Family..."

"You're a very bright young person." Carlotta leaned back in her chair and brought her cup of tea with her. "Your hunch is correct. I received this shawl from the Royal Family."

"That's incredible!" Before he could control himself, his fascination took over. Through the corner of his eye, he saw Ashei's amused expression, and it only fueled him further. "Simply incredible! The Royal Family was a very closed circle fifty years ago."

"It was, yes. It's still a wonder I managed to work my way in, to be honest," she chuckled. "But the king and I were once quite close. This was a gift given to me by him."

"The king? Wow, that's pretty impressive," Ashei smiled.

"May I ask you another question, Carlotta?" Shad said. The question had been sitting on his lips ever since he saw the shawl.

"Please, go ahead. It's nice talking about my own past for once."

"Did you...did you know the princess? Princess Zelda?"

The silence that followed was soft, not heavy and uncomfortable. He looked at her aged, wrinkled face, lost in memories and with a light smile. Ashei kicked him under the table, and he sucked in a breath to avoid manifesting the pain, but he had no regrets.

"Yes. I did know the princess. Very well."

He smiled and suddenly felt sad.

"She was lovely," he said. "She was so lovely."

"You knew her as well?"

"Only vaguely. But she was...alluring. Enamoring."

"Even more so than both her parents." Carlotta looked deeply into her cup of tea. "It's nice to hear how loved she was."

"She was very loved," he replied sadly. "Very, very loved."

Carlotta gazed at him quietly, and he saw knowledge in her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered, "she really was."

* * *

Link and Tara were sitting across from each other, cross-legged on the floor. It was the morning after the incident with the window, and they had spent the night in the temple. He fiddled with the ring around his neck, she fiddled with her infinite number of necklaces and smoked her pipe. There were so many questions running through his mind that he didn't know where to start. And he was still so taken aback by Tara's mood—she was somber, her eyes were almost dull, she seemed lifeless. It frightened him that someone like her, bold and outgoing and witty, was wilting right in front of him. What could have possibly happened to make her like this? He thought, and watched, and wanted a pipe of his own to smoke.

He was still in immense pain, and couldn't do much more than sit and stare. Tara was avoiding his eyes, watching her fingers then the ceiling then the open notebook in her lap. She took out her hair band and let the infinite strands of her hair flow down her back. Her eyes, almost by accident, fell upon his face. Perhaps his expression was just overwhelmingly pathetic, because at that moment she extended her pipe to him. Without a word, he took it and took a long, deep drag. Then, as if she were too tired to sit anymore, Tara lay on her back and stared at the ceiling through the smoke. Link wanted to say something. Anything. Ask some kind of question.

"Taralisse?"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" she sighed.

It was a sound of resignation, and it almost made him feel guilty for calling her by her full name. He just thought it sounded so much more beautiful, so much more complete.

"I'm sorry."

"And you keep apologizing. For stupid shit."

"I'm..." His voice trailed off. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"I don't know."

"Well. You're welcome anyway."

He opened his mouth to ask her about the temple, about what she had meant when she told him he would be dead, how it was alive. But instead, the words that flowed out were ones he hadn't been expecting—only natural, but unexpected.

"I miss her," he said.

Tara turned her face so that her cheek was resting on the cold floor of the temple. But she didn't say anything. So he kept talking.

"I miss her so much it hurts. And I don't know how to make the pain stop. I don't know how to rid myself of this burden. This is the only way I can think of, the only think that could possibly bring me at least some kind of peace of mind. It feels like the world is always on my shoulders, following me, reminding me of what I did."

"What did you do?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. I didn't do anything. And that nothingness crushes me every moment of every day."

"You loved her, didn't you?"

"I...yes."

"And she knew that you loved her?"

"Yes."

"She loved you back?"

"Too much."

"Then you did everything," she murmured. "You gave love and you received love. That's all you can do."

His rage was coming back, because Tara was trying to tell him that everything was okay, even though he knew that it wasn't. People trying to comfort him was like a trigger—it just reminded him that there was absolutely nothing that could comfort him. In an attempt to calm himself, he tightened his grip around the ring.

"No I didn't. I didn't do everything. _She_ did everything."

"Was she beautiful?"

"What? O-of course she was."

"Tell me how beautiful she was. It'll help you, trust me."

"Where do I start?"

"Eyes. Eyes are the most important."

"They were blue. And from a distance, they looked normal. But if you looked really closely, there was so much power. So much wisdom, and gentleness, and when she looked at you, she really looked at you. And you could see in her eyes that she could see into yours."

"Her lips."

"Soft and sculpted. When she smiled, it was small. The corners would just turn up, you know, like when you're trying to hold back a smile. But that was her real smile. And it was so bright, even though it was small. The entire world would light up."

"What did they taste like?"

Link closed his eyes as tightly as he could and tried to remember.

"They tasted like rain. Like the rain that falls when you're feeling sad and lonely, but you look outside the window and see the rain and it makes you happy."

"Now her hair."

"Like thin strands of silk. But so many strands, all coming together. It was long, not as long as yours, and not as dark as yours. It was brown, I guess, but there was a golden tint to it. Even when it was dark, even when there was no light, it shimmered like gold. And it was soft. Any time of day, any time of night, you could run your hands through it and not find a single tangle."

"Wow. I wish my hair were like that. What was her voice like?"

"The kind of voice that could make you feel calm, even when the world was crumbling around you. It had a strange power over me. Sometimes I felt tired, dying, breathless. But as soon as I heard her voice, I felt happy. When she said my name, I even got a little sad, because I knew my name would never sound that nice again. And when she said, 'I love you,' I really believed it, because her voice was so reassuring."

"She sounds wonderful."

Link felt as if there were something caught in his throat. He couldn't sit straight anymore.

"Thank you," he said.

"What for now?"

"For helping me remember. Sometimes I'm scared I'll forget what she looks like."

"What she sounds like."

"What she smells like."

Silently, Link lay on his back beside her hair and stared. The world was spinning out of control, and he wanted to ask then about the temple, but he was afraid that if he tried to speak he would say too much again. Or not say enough. But, after an eternity of silence, he finally spoke.

"Can you tell me what you meant? By the temple being alive?"

"I meant just that. The temple is alive."

"I don't understand."

"It's better that way."

"But I need to understand."

Tara reached over, grabbed the pipe from his hands, and began to smoke again.

"It's like a living thing, not in the way that it breathes and speaks and needs food and water for survival. It's like a living thing in that it goes to great lengths to defend itself."

"Defend itself? From what?"

"People like you who try to mess with it."

"What about the Hero of Time? The temple didn't defend itself against him."

"Think about it. The Hero of Time was just that—the Hero of Time. He was meant to travel back through time, just as you were meant to travel back to this temple and into the Twilight. But when people step outside the boundaries, when people try to take advantage of the inherent power of the temple, it defends itself."

"Like a means of survival."

"Exactly."

"So that's what you meant," he breathed, "when you said that you knew more than any sane person should."

"Hmm."

"How do you know all of this?"

Tara didn't respond.

He glanced over and saw the old Tara returning. He could see the color in her cheeks coming back, the mysterious sparkle in her eyes, the perpetual pout of her lips. And with that came her wall. But, somehow, he didn't mind. He felt so grateful to her for listening to him, for forcing him to speak.

"I want to keep trying anyway," Link said.

"You can't. The goddesses might just get fed up with you and your stupid decisions and let the temple kill you."

"I don't care."

Tara abruptly sat up, looked down at him with wide and angry eyes.

"How can you _say_ that? This is your life we're talking about!"

"My life is not the important one..."

"No, you can't think that way," she hissed. "You have to value your own life. People die all the time. I'm sure your loved ones have died before. And I'm sure you've accepted that and moved forward. Do the same now!"

"I can't..."

"Why not?"

"I just can't."

He wasn't ready to tell her the truth yet. Not the whole truth, at least. He wasn't ready to tell her that Zelda had died in sacrifice for him. It wasn't something he could just come out and say. So he didn't. He left it at that.

Tara was panting at that point, and he could see her reigning back a storm inside her. Then, while he waited for the final explosion, she stood up and began pacing. She was walking quickly, briskly, gripping the pipe with her teeth and running her fingers through strands of her hair desperately. She paused, bent down and grabbed her notebook, began flipping through it. Link blinked a few times, wondering how she could jump around from mood to mood so drastically.

"What are you—?"

"_Shh!_"

"Taralisse, please."

"Do you want me to really help you or not?"

"What do you mean, 'really' help?"

"Well, to be completely honest, I didn't plan on helping your sorry ass."

"You...you _WHAT?_"

She shrugged it off and kept flipping, kept walking, her hair swaying like a pendulum.

"You mean, you tricked me?"

"I had planned on it."

Link had not felt so furious in a long time.

"You little—"

"But I'll help you," she sighed. "Actually help you. Because I think you at least deserve a shot. Don't let that get to your head, all right? And shut up, so that I can try to figure out this monster."


	16. Dictatorship

**Haiiii here's chapter sixteen. **

**I don't know if it makes much sense...it made sense in my head...**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Dictatorship

"Rule number one: no more breaking windows."

Tara had retied and braided her hair—it gave her a sense of power—and stood in front of Link with her notebook and pipe in hand. He was still sitting on the ground, bare-chested, muscles tense in raw anger. Tara knew that she had made him furious with her confession, but she didn't mind. He would get over it. And she had felt that it needed to be said at that point. Somehow, with a combination of his pleading voice and puppy-dog eyes, he had struck a tender nerve inside of her. When he had spoken about the undying love that drove him, there had been so much passion flowing from his lips. And she could relate to that perfectly. She knew now that he would never give up; for some reason, she truly wanted to help him. She was willing to take the risks. And anyway, she was smart enough to avoid really screwing up the world.

But they were going to do it her way.

"Rule number two: you do what _I_ say, when _I_ say. Got it?"

"I don't understand how you think I'm okay with this."

"With what? Me saving your life?"

"You were _tricking_ me the whole time!"

"But I stopped now. It's fine. Rule number three: you do not touch anything unless I say so."

She almost burst into laughter when he crossed his arms and looked away, with the face of an angry child about to throw a tantrum.

"I understand you even less than I thought I did," he grumbled.

"Aw, does baby want a chocolate?"

She held a small, wrapped candy out to him with raised eyebrows. For a few moments he just stared at her hands. And then, just like she knew he would, he grabbed the chocolate and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Good boy. Now, you understand my rules?"

"I guess so."

"Don't give me attitude. I'm trying to help you."

"Yeah..."

"You should give me a foot massage after all that walking I did to get you that damn water from the grove."

"It's right there, you probably didn't have to walk too far anyway."

"No sass. That's rule number four."

"You're like a dictator."

"Either I run the show, or I crash the show and then run the show. 'Kay?"

"All right, fine. I'll follow your rules. But will you at least tell me—?"

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish."

"Yes."

"I think the only thing I know about you is that you're crazy. Even now."

"It's one of my trademark character traits."

"Great. Now, where do we start?"

"The pedestal."

"Lead the way."

Tara was very happy that she was good at hiding her emotions. Ever since he had forced her to talk about the dream and her sister, even though she had barely said anything, she had been horribly anxious. She had to admit, at least to herself, that she was afraid of people knowing about what had happened. In a way, she took comfort in the mystery that surrounded her. It was like a protective shield. If people didn't know about her, couldn't use information against her, there was less of a chance of her getting hurt again. And yet Link had squeezed more out of her than anyone had (Shad excluded, of course). She was nervous that the more time she spent with him, the more he would get out of her. There was something in the way he looked at her, something in the passion emanating from him, that made her want to tell him everything.

_No. You tell him nothing. _

She paused and thought over that.

_Well. I guess I've already told him something. He's never going to give up until he knows how I know what I know. _

From that moment, Tara began preparing herself for the moment when everything came pouring out. She didn't want it to happen, and she was going to avoid it at all costs, but at that point she was smart enough to recognize that it was inevitable. She knew herself. It might take a while, but it would happen. Soon enough, he would know everything. But she was going to delay that process as much as possible, to give herself more time to sulk in the shadow of her mystery and the anguish that nobody else knew.

They stood beside each other by the pedestal, beneath the warmth of the sunlight pouring down on it. She had sketched it out as well as she could, and she was beginning to understand the way that it worked, but there was a long way to go. Of course, once she figured it out, the entire world would bow at her genius feet.

"Why the pedestal?" he asked.

"Because it's the lock, remember? And your sword is the key."

"Right."

She blew out the smoke from her pipe and passed it over to him. He took a single smoke, closed his eyes, and then handed it back to her. They went on like this for a few minutes and she could feel him watching her as she tried, desperately, to sort out the thoughts in her mind and write them down in a coherent way.

"So if you push it all the way down, the staircase appears. Right?"

"Right."

"Do it for me."

Link unsheathed his sword, and she couldn't help but notice how naturally he did it. He could wield his sword as a normal person would wield a piece of silverware. He stepped forward and plunged his sword into the pedestal, grasped the hilt with both hands, and drove it as far down as he could. Tara held her breath and waited for the magic (actually science) to happen. And just like Link had described, a beautiful, surreal blue staircase appeared, leading through one of the windows.

"Just incredible..." she murmured.

"Yeah," he breathed. "But I wouldn't recommend walking up those stairs."

"Oh, I will. Just not now."

"Glad you take my advice so seriously."

She glanced down at her book, at the equations that she had worked on for months. And then she looked at the equations she had managed to derive within the past few hours. She scribbled some more numbers and letters.

"So if pushing it all the way down leads to the staircase, there might be a way to control the mechanisms of the pedestal."

"I won't even bother trying to understand."

"We could try halfway down. Or a third of the way down. But we'd have to find a way to keep it in place. It might just slide all the way down or not go down at all."

She knew that she was pretty much talking to herself, but it didn't matter. Talking aloud always helped her concentrate and think through the issues.

"And I think, by looking at the placement and the opening for the sword...there might even be a way to rotate the whole system."

"I don't know if I'm strong enough for that."

"It's not about strength. It's about getting the angle _exactly_ right, which might take a while to calculate...unless, of course, we just do the whole trial and error thing and risk your life."

"Whatever we need to do, captain."

She bit down on the end of her pen.

"Okay, first, let's do this. I need you reach into my bag—listen very carefully—reach down into my bag, grab me a chocolate, unwrap it, and give it to me."

He sighed with an amused smile, did as he was told, and placed the chocolate into Tara's open mouth. It was times like these when she was happy to have someone like Link by her side when she was too lazy and too distracted.

"Next, we look at this thing and see the angles we can manage..."

"What do you mean by that?"

"There should be a way, if my calculations and predictions are right, to put the sword in to a certain point, and then twist the pedestal at an angle."

"Wouldn't that break the sword? O-or the pedestal?"

"You would think. But I don't think that would happen. If you look at these ridges—"

"No, no," he interrupted, waving his hands. "Don't bother trying to explain. I trust you."

"All right, good. You're following the rules nicely."

"I don't have much of a choice."

"No, you're right," she smirked. "So you'll just follow my directions, right?"

"Right."

"I'm warning you, this could be painful. Or fatal."

"I've faced worse."

His face was so serious, and it reminded her that he was scarred and called a hero for a reason. She couldn't imagine the terrible things he had seen, the blood that he had seen being spilt. Thinking about it helped her understand the fearlessness in his feral eyes.

"Right," she sighed. "First, take your sword out."

He took his sword out of the pedestal with the ease of slicing butter with a hot knife.

"Good. Now, as carefully and as slowly as you can, put the sword in until I say stop." As slowly as he could, he lowered the sword. "Good...good...Stop! All right, now hold it there for a couple seconds."

"Okay."

Tara crouched and narrowed her eyes, trying to compare her notes with what was actually in front of her.

"This should work..."

She reached forward and brushed the pedestal with her fingers, to make sure that it felt the way she expected it to feel. She tilted her head, tapped her pen on her knee over and over and over.

"When I say go, turn the sword clockwise. You hear me? _Clockwise_."

"I hear you."

"And the moment I say stop, you stop."

"I don't know how this is going to work..."

"Just trust me."

"All...all right."

"Link, you ready?"

"I'm ready."

"Okay...1, 2, 3, go!"

The entire world started shaking. She could see every single one of his muscles flex, sweat pour down his face, his jaw clench. But she could not keep herself from smiling in the face of such fascinating discoveries. As she watched the pedestal move along with the sword, as she had predicted it would, she wrote down every observation in minute detail. All the while she kept watch on the angle. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt nothing but relief, because she had been silently afraid that her plan wouldn't work. But here was the great Pedestal of Time, moving at a nice angle.

"Good...good...STOP!"

The very moment he stopped, letting out the deep breath he had been holding, exactly what Tara had been worried about happened. Things started moving in slow motion. She saw, in perfect detail, what looked like a worm of electricity crawl up along the blade from the pedestal. It moved, faster and faster, growing bigger with every second, up to the hilt. Before she could even open her mouth to scream, the worm exploded against Link's vulnerable fingers, and with a loud _zap!_ he flew halfway across the room, landing once again on his poor back.

"Link!"

Making sure she brought her pipe, she ran to his side and put her hands on her knees, bending over his face. His eyes were closed, but they were closed tight, and he was bearing his teeth.

"Babe, you okay?"

She took a smoke as he opened his eyes and looked up at her. It seemed as if his entire body was still tingling, but she didn't feel too guilty. After all, she had warned him.

"Not really."

"Well, you knew it could have happened."

She reached her hand out and he grabbed it, let her pull him up to his feet. He had to lean against her for a few moments, before he could orient himself and stand on his own.

"Was that another 'defense mechanism?'" he spat. Tara smiled and patted his back.

"Yup."

"Great. I'm liking this place more and more."

"I am so glad to hear that."

"So...is there another angle we can try?"

"Damn, you bounce back fast."

"One of my trademark character traits."

"There are lots more we can try. Essentially, infinite. I don't know how long your body can withstand—"

"Let's keep going," he said. "Let's just keep going until I can't take anymore."

"O...okay."

His determination was beginning to frighten her a little bit, but she didn't see herself in a position to argue. She handed him her pipe again and when he breathed in the smoke, it was in such a desperate way. Something compelled her to reach up and squeeze his arm, in an odd and awkward attempt to comfort him from whatever it was making him smoke like that. He looked at her and gave her a sad, grateful smile. That made her sad, too.

"All right. Let's try again," she said.

"Excuse me, but I would prefer it if you didn't try again."

They heard a surreal, familiar voice coming from the entrance of the temple. It echoed throughout the temple and filled their heads like a song. A smooth, catchy melody that would forever be stuck in their heads. In the same direction, in the same slow motion, Tara and Link turned around to see from where the voice had come.

There, standing in the doorway to the temple, was a young man—a boy—whose face was hidden in shadows.

"But...but how did you—?" Link began, but he was cut off.

"If I were you, I would step away from the pedestal. In fact, if I were you, I would leave and never come back."

Tara's entire body grew cold. As a reflex, she reached up and grabbed Link's sleeve, grasped the cloth of his tunic as tightly as she possibly could. She felt him look over at her, but she couldn't bear to look back. She couldn't bear to look away from the silhouette.

_No...this isn't real..._

"Taralisse, you're as white as a ghost," Link whispered.

She could only shake her head because there no words left on her tongue.

"You should leave this place," the boy said.

He stepped forward, out of the shadows.

Tara was surprised by how beautiful he was. His hair was as red as fire and fell in thick, straight strands over his eyes. He was tall and slender and his eyes were a bright green. He couldn't have been more than eighteen years old. The hair, the eyes, the smooth olive skin tone, were not what Tara had been picturing.

After all, she knew exactly who this man was. And seeing him scared her more than anything. She was beginning to get dizzy. Link, of course, was still completely oblivious.

"Who are you?" he asked skeptically. "What do you want?"

"Link..." Tara murmured. Like a child (for she felt like a child), she tugged on his sleeve.

"My name is Tempest," the boy said, "and I'm here to tell you to leave."

Tara could take no more.

Her knees gave out beneath her and everything became white.

* * *

**Yayayay things are happening**


	17. Time is Like a Tempest

**I actually hate the way I wrote this chapter but it gets the job done, I suppose. **

**I hope you all enjoy it!**

**HALFWAY THERE! (*o*)**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: Time is Like a Tempest

"Taralisse!"

Link lunged forward and caught her just as she fell, without warning. Confused and worried, he slowly got down on his knees and pressed his hand to her forehead.

_There's no fever. So why did she...?_

For a few moments, Link had completely forgotten about the strange young man who had appeared from nowhere and was still standing, with that mysterious smile, in front of him. Link looked up at the man, narrowed his eyes, tightened his grip on Tara protectively.

"Tempest? You said your name was Tempest?"

The boy nodded.

"Yes. My name is Tempest. You should leave," he said.

"Where did you come from? And how did you get in here?"

He tilted his head and furrowed his brow, as if the question didn't make sense to him.

"I...I don't know what you mean."

"What do you mean you don't know? I'm asking where you came from."

"Nowhere, I suppose."

Link was getting more and more nervous, because as the seconds flitted past, the boy looked more familiar. There was an aura of innocence surrounding him and the look of a child in his shimmering eyes. He was wearing a black coat and bare-chested beneath it, and even in his youth, his muscles rippled in the light. His eyes were almost hidden by his fiery red locks. To Link, he looked otherworldly, yet familiar. He was wearing some kind of necklace, but Link couldn't tell what it was. Something was nagging at his brain, on the tip of his tongue, horribly frustrating.

"You're from nowhere?" Link repeated.

"To be honest, I don't know."

"Where's your home?"

"Nowhere."

It was at that moment that Link realized the presence that had been following him like an insect, the hand that been laying on his shoulder, had completely disappeared. The omnipresent warmth was gone. Of course, he could still hear Zelda's voice in his mind—he had been hearing it ever since he had told her he was leaving. But the warning Renado had told him about, the one to which he had become so accustomed, was gone. It left him feeling empty.

"Who _are_ you?" he murmured. Tara remained still and unconscious in his arms.

"I told you," the boy smiled. "I'm Tempest."

"That's just a name. It's not who you are."

"Yes it is."

"Tempest..."

The word tasted like venom on his lips, but it was venom that he had tasted before. Then, in a flash of bright light and fear, he remembered his dream.

_Time is like a tempest. _

"Let me see your hand," Link said.

"My hand?" Confused, the boy raised his hand to the light and looked at it. "I think it's a normal hand."

"Let me see it."

Link reached up as far as he could and grabbed Tempest's wrist, brought down his hand so that he could examine every single detail. He found exactly what he had feared, and it made the color drain from his face and the blood drain from his heart.

The boy's skin was warm, comfortingly warm. And his nails were painted a deep green color.

_Almost black._

And the color of his skin was ghostly. As if the light were passing right through his flesh. One thing that he hadn't been expecting to see, though, were tiny scratches. Red, short scratches covering his skin like marks of battle. But even when Link pressed his thumb against them, the boy didn't react. As if the injuries weren't even there at all—but they were fresh, and blood was slowly oozing out.

"Tempest..."

"Yes?"

"Time is like a tempest."

Link forced himself to look up at the young man's face. He was smiling proudly, his cheeks red and his muscles flexed.

"Time _is_ like a tempest," he replied.

"You're the one who's been following me."

At that, Tempest didn't respond. But his smile grew larger, and he lifted his hand from Link's grasp. His fingers moved to the necklace, which looked like a pendant, around his neck. Link's throat became dry and his skin didn't feel like his own any more—just like another layer of clothing stuck to his bones.

"I'm dreaming," he said. "This is another dream."

"No. If this were a dream, there would be fire everywhere."

Link's eyes widened and he fell back on his heels, unable to comprehend what was taking place right before him.

"R-right..."

"This is real. I'm actually in front of you, and I'm actually telling you to leave. Or I'll have to kill you."

_"Kill_ me?"

"Yes."

Tempest smiled again and began looking around, as if he were returning home after a long, grueling journey. He clasped his hands behind his back and started rocking back and forth, back and forth, on his heels. In perfect time with an ominous ticking that Link hadn't been aware of before.

"I don't want to kill you. You seem nice."

"I don't understand who you are," Link breathed. "I don't understand who you are or why you've been following me or what you want."

"You're very confused..."

"Yes. I don't know who you are."

Tempest tilted his head, pouted like a child, and then shrugged.

"I'm Tempest."

As he said his name, apparently his identity, for what seemed like the millionth time, Tara's eyes shot open, she gasped as if she had been under water for too long, and sat up. Link fell backward, and Tempest raised his eyebrows in amused surprise.

"T-Taralisse!"

She sat with her hand on her heaving chest, staring straight forward with glassy eyes, lips ajar and limbs shaking. Link had never seen her looking so...frightened. That was what he saw in her. Raw fear. It flashed in her eyes instead of the boldness that he usually saw. He fell silent after yelling her name, because she seemed as if she were in her own world. Completely unaware of anything around, trying desperately to catch her breath. Then, rapidly, she turned her head to face Tempest. He was still standing with the same delighted expression.

As soon as her eyes fell upon him, Tara put both hands on her ears, closed her eyes, and screamed.

"Shh! Hey, hey, it's okay."

Link reached forward and wrapped his arms around her, tried to get her to stop screaming and stop shaking. She was shivering, but when he checked again, she had no fever. The temple itself was at a reasonable temperature. And yet, she was curled up there, grasping at her hair with claw-like fingers, shivering uncontrollably.

"This can't be happening, this can't be happening," she murmured, over and over.

"It's all right. I'm here, I'm right here."

Tempest began shuffling his feet uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at Link and Tara. Then, after a few moments, he sat down in front of them and began tugging on his hair. Link was even more confused than before. This reaction from Tara was strange to say the least, and it gave him an eerie feeling. Everything, absolutely everything, was giving him an eerie feeling.

"Excuse me," Tempest said. "I feel a bit rude. I never asked your name."

Link didn't know why he chose that specific moment to ask his name, or why it mattered that he felt rude. After all, he had just threatened to kill him.

"M-my name is Link."

"Yes, that's right. I knew that. You're the hero. Well, what's her name?"

"Tara."

"You didn't call her Tara."

"Oh, I called her Taralisse. It's her full name."

"Oh."

Tempest was watching Tara with eyes that were suddenly sorrowful and sympathetic in contrast to the amusement Link had seen only moments ago. Tara was still shaking, still holding her head, keeping her eyes closed. In a way, Link was glad he had the chance to feel protective. He hadn't felt so protective in a while. Although he wasn't sure why he felt so protective over her. Perhaps it was because she had helped him before.

"Link. A nice name."

Link tried to swallow back his nerves and failed miserably.

"Link. Can I ask you something, Link?"

"S-sure."

"This might sound strange—"

"Relatively, I doubt it."

"Can I hold her hand?"

He had to admit: it truly did sound strange, even relatively.

"You want to hold her hand?"

Tara shook even more dramatically and curled into him more tightly. He could see her fighting off something terrible, fighting off the secrets within her that she was desperate to keep hidden. Tempest simply nodded and reached out his own hand. Link was still shocked to see the nails.

Before Link could answer, saying that he didn't think it was such a good idea, the boy leaned forward and tenderly grabbed one of Tara's hands in his own, scratched hands. She whimpered softly and opened her eyes, staring at Tempest with a pained fire. But he unflinchingly maintained eye contact and for some reason that Link couldn't understand, Tara let him hold her hand. She didn't flinch, she didn't pull away. And then, like magic, she stopped shivering. Tempest, his eyes still focused on hers, brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Link felt Tara breathe in at the touch, but she didn't draw back. She just watched.

Tempest let his lips sit on her skin, then squeezed her hand and smiled against it. Tara was completely silent, completely calm, and Link wanted to throw his arms in the air in a futile attempt to understand what was happening.

"Tara. That's your name, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"My name is Tempest."

Her body began to relax and she slouched back against Link, who was rubbing her arms. Just to let her know that he was still there.

"You're very beautiful," Tempest said. "Your eyes...I've never seen that color before."

Link watched their interaction unfurl in silence. But the entire time, he was thinking, _What is even happening?_

"I wish I could look into your eyes longer and maybe hold your hand longer. But you should leave."

Tara swallowed, still silent, so Link decided to speak.

"We can't leave."

"But why? The door is right there."

_For the love of Farore. He's like a child. _

"We have to do something very important here. We can't leave."

"Link..." Tara whispered.

"Oh, I know what you're trying to do, hero," Tempest smiled. "That's why I'm telling you to leave."

Gently, Link let go of Tara and stood up. They both followed, but Tempest still would not let go of her hand.

"But we can't."

"Link—" Tara said again. Her voice was getting more urgent, but he hardly noticed.

"You have to," Tempest repeated.

"No."

"I'm sad that you won't leave, because now I have to kill you."

Before Link could even comprehend his words, Tempest let go of Tara's hand and drew a long, fatally sharp sword. It shocked him, because he hadn't even seen a sheath. It was as if the sword had just appeared, inch by inch, in Tempest's hand. But Link's reflexes were ready. Tempest jabbed his sword horizontally, toward Link's stomach, but he drew his own sword with the speed of light and parried the blow. Tara stumbled back, away from the momentary brawl, as sparks flew from the sword-on-sword contact.

* * *

Shad and Ashei were still sitting at the small table in the café, hiding their smiles, speaking to a strange old lady with a beautiful shawl and a nice voice. When he glanced at his watch, he saw that it had been nearly two hours since the woman had sat down. And they had spoken to her for every minute. Somehow, Ashei had grown to like the woman as well—she participated emphatically in the conversation. Shad had been asking Carlotta to tell them more about her experience with the Royal Family, and he was scrupulously writing down notes in his notebook (even though Ashei had begged him not to). There were so few people left who truly knew what the Royal Family was like back then. Carlotta was a living treasure. Not to mention the fact that she was charming and alluring, and she could so effortlessly make them laugh and lose themselves in the sleepy afternoon.

"The garden was always my favorite place to go," she said. "Sometimes it seemed as if the garden was larger than the entire castle itself! The hedges were taller than any human, and it was so easy to get lost, but that was my favorite part. Losing myself in the beauty of it all. Of course, I don't know if the garden is still like that."

"It's still quite beautiful," Shad nodded. "I love it as well. It's a wonderful place for thinking."

"Or sneaking off when you need some privacy, yeah?" Ashei winked. Shad opened his mouth to reprimand her, but Carlotta cut him off with a laugh.

"Yes, yes! That's quite true."

"At least someone agrees with me."

As a server walked by, Carlotta ordered her fifth cup of tea. Even as young as he was, Shad had trouble downing three in the span of two hours. Perhaps, he thought, the ability to drink tea uncontrollably was enhanced with age. He scribbled that in the margins of his notebook—just in case.

"Darling Zelda used to love the garden as well. She loved the flowers, so very much. Every day she would wake up and go choose a new flower to be her favorite, and it changed every day. Well, until she turned sixteen. She stopped going into the garden as often after that. But, of course, her parents were long gone by then, and so was I."

The old woman shrugged, so matter of factly, and sipped on her tea. As if what had happened were only natural. But it made Shad sad to hear that. He liked to imagine Zelda as a child, running through the garden with a handful of flowers.

"Did you see her very often after the King and Queen...well..." His voice trailed off. He never was good at expressing difficult emotions, especially to those he just met.

"No. I'm afraid I didn't. Once in a blue moon she would stop by my shop. Actually, that's how I met...ah, I always forget his name...the one in the green tunic."

"You mean Link? You know Link?" Shad grinned. At every turn there was something new to discover about this woman, about her story and her past and her present and her future.

"Link! That's his name! I always forget for some reason. My memory truly has started to fail me."

"How did you meet Link?" Ashei pressed.

Shad looked at her and saw the familiar glint of fascination in her eyes, the one that was making him fall harder and harder for her every moment. Her curiosity was what had first attracted him to her anyway.

"It's a wonderful story," Carlotta smiled. Shad saw behind her smile that she was hiding something beautiful, but something sad. Something that was making her want to smile and cry at the same time. "A beautiful story."

"Link never mentioned you, I'm afraid. We'd love to hear the story," Shad said.

"All right then. I was sitting in my shop about one year ago, tending to business as usual. Not many people come to my store because it's fairly exclusive and I'm running it more as a hobby now. Sometimes, weeks would go by and nobody would come in. Not many people appreciate the antiques I have to offer anymore. But, of course, Zelda always knew where it was."

She paused to drink more of her tea, and Shad realized the power that her voice had of drawing people into it. Her stories were like music in their ears, and they only wanted to hear more.

"That day began normally, but when I saw her walk in with that handsome man beside her, I knew something extraordinary was happening. Now, don't go thinking I live under a rock! I knew about the plague that was spreading. So when Zelda told me she needed me, I was happy to help. She came for a spice that's so rare nowadays, it seems as if only I know how to get a hold of it. But I'm getting distracted."

"No, no! Please, we love hearing every detail," Shad nodded. And he meant it.

"You are so bright-eyed, I love it. Now, I gave her the spice and she left, but the boy stayed. He had such a serious look on his face, I can still see it now!" she laughed. "His eyes were scrunched up and he was so anxious, like a child trying to hide a spill from his mother!"

Ashei and Shad both began to laugh along, trying to imagine Link looking like that.

"He asked me for something very special. He had seen it on display and he wanted it, and I knew why. So I gave him a good price for it, the sweet soul that I am."

"What was it? Oh man, I'm on the edge of my seat," Ashei pressed.

Carlotta raised her eyebrows, almost mischievously, and took a dramatic pause. Shad was terribly curious as well. He couldn't imagine anything especially important that Link could have bought from an admittedly odd little antique store. At that point, he also started to wonder how a woman as old as Carlotta could talk so much and laugh so heartily.

"It was a ring. A beautiful ring, one of my most rare and valuable possessions. To be honest, I'm not sure if it had actually been for sale. But he saw it, and he wanted it. And I have to tell you, I was so very happy when I sold that ring to him."

"Y-you mean to say that Link bought a ring from you..." Ashei began.

"...for Zelda?" Shad finished.

"Yes. He used it, mind you."

Shad and Ashei looked at each other, eyes equally wide and hearts equally aching.

"So...Zelda and Link were engaged," he murmured. "He proposed to her with that ring. Is that what you mean to say?"

"I can only assume so," Carlotta shrugged. "But Link wears it around his neck now."

"The bastard was actually going to marry her," Ashei sighed. "And she was going to marry him!"

"That is beautiful." When Shad smiled, it was a softer, smaller smile. He suddenly felt very hollow inside, as if he had made a terrible mistake he couldn't remedy. "But why wouldn't the old boy tell anyone?"

"Now that, I don't know," Carlotta sighed. She put her empty tea cup on the table and raised her hand, looking as if she were about to order another one, but then decided against it. "His soul is in terrible pain, you know."

"We know," the two said in unison.

"We've tried helping him, but he is so determined to live in the past," Shad added.

Carlotta wrapped her shawl more tightly around herself and looked up at the ceiling, closed her eyes, breathed out gently.

"The present can be so tiresome, and the future is so uncertain. Sometimes...the past is all we can be sure of. And poor souls like Link need something to be sure of."

* * *

**I realized as I was writing this story in general that I have become quite enamored by the idea of OCs.**

**You've probably noticed.**

**Anywho, chapter eighteen coming soon! **


	18. Playing a Dangerous Game

**Okayyyyy so this chapter is a tad bit confusing. For that, I apologize, but bear with me. It will get more clear in the coming chapters, I pwomise. **

**0.0**

**(btdubs i don't want to spoil anything but i also don't want to freak anybody out, so...tara and link are not (let me repeat NOT) romantically involved k? that would ruin the whole premise of the story. just sayin.)**

**And also, one of my readers asked if Tempest has ever appeared in another Zelda game, so I'll clarify. Tempest is just another one of my crazy OCs. **

**I've been birthing a lot of them lately. **

**OKAY I'LL SHUT UP SO YOU CAN READ :)**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen: Playing a Dangerous Game

"Stop it!" Tara screamed.

Link narrowed his eyes at Tempest, whose face was still smiling and calm, a bit darker than before. As if he hadn't just tried to kill. They were frozen in position, sword against sword.

"Link, you don't know what you're getting into," she continued, moving to stand beside him.

"Oh, and you do?" he spat.

"_Yes!_"

He glared at her. Of course, she had said something he didn't understand. It was a wonderful talent of hers, confusing him beyond recognition of his own thoughts. He looked back at Tempest, who was raising his eyebrows. Waiting for Link to make the next move. He was much, much, _much_ stronger than Link had been expecting. As if he were exerting no effort at all. His smile never faded, not even a little bit.

"Link, remember what I told you about the temple," she said.

"That it's alive..."

"And?"

"And it has different defense mechanisms."

"Tempest _is_ a defense mechanism."

"But how can that—?"

"He's a guardian of the temple."

_More guardians. You have to be kidding me._

"A guardian," he sighed.

"Yes. Just like the pedestal, and the window...he will do whatever it takes to keep you from doing what you're not meant to do. In a more direct way."

Link's heart fell down to his feet as he looked back at Tempest. His expression hadn't changed at all.

"Now you know," said the guardian of the temple. "I'll kill you if you don't leave, hero."

It was the first time since deciding to undertake this endeavor that he felt truly, hopelessly trapped. But in a way, he understood. He understood why Tempest had been following him, appearing in his dreams, trying to lead him away from his goals. What he still didn't understand was how Tara knew that, why she had acted the way that she did. The more questions that were answered, the more questions appeared.

"Please, lower your swords. They're freaking me out," she sighed.

They both hesitated. But Link noticed, almost instantly, that Tara had a strange power over Tempest. He wouldn't have hesitated the way that he did otherwise. And, eventually, they both obeyed and lowered their swords.

"Thank you. I would rather not see blood all over this place before I've finished studying it."

Link was quietly relieved that she had returned to herself.

"So you'll leave?" Tempest ventured.

Link opened his mouth to respond, but Tara shot him a dangerous look that silenced him in an instant.

"Hey, Tempest, can I ask you something?" she said.

"You can. I'll try to answer."

"Would you let us stay if it was just to study the temple? Hmm?"

Link clenched his teeth and bit his tongue to keep from interjecting. Looking into her eyes, he saw that she had a plan. But he didn't like not knowing what it was.

"To study it? Why would you want to study it?"

"I'm a scholar," she replied. "I study time."

"Really? Interesting."

"We wouldn't touch anything. Okay?"

He paused, pursing his lips.

"You promise?"

"We promise."

"I guess if you're not doing anything wrong...I can't kill you," he shrugged. Tara smiled at him.

"Great! Now, if you'll excuse us for a second..." Tara grabbed Link's arm and led him away from Tempest, lowered her voice and spoke to him in hushed tones.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"I'm buying you time, idiot. At least now he's not going to force us to leave."

"Yeah, but if I try anything he'll just drive his sword straight through me."

"You think I don't know that?"

"So what do we do now?"

"Well..."

"You haven't thought this through."

"Yeah, well neither have you."

Link looked over his shoulder at Tempest, who was looking around and effortlessly twisting his sword.

"He's like a little kid," he observed.

"A little kid who likes to play with swords, apparently."

"What do we do? I need to try to find her."

Tara began playing with her hair, the way she did when she was thinking and she didn't have a pipe in her mouth. It always made him very nervous. Her plans in general made him nervous.

"Play a game with him," she said.

"A game?"

"Yes. Play a game with him. He's like a child, right? He doesn't know anything about this world. All he knows is that time is untouchable. But he's curious. So play a game."

"What kind of game?"

"Something that will pique his interest. Like...like a bet. You'll have to be clever about it, you know what I mean? Find a way to trick him. Don't be completely fooled—he thinks and talks and breathes like a normal human. Just with some divine power, that's all."

"Tara, how do you know so much about him?"

She paused and he could see her trying to avoid his question.

"I don't," she said. "I'm just guessing."

"Liar."

"Prove it."

They glared for a few moments, and then he was forced to succumb. As always.

Then, the theoretical light bulb flashed above Link's head. He suddenly knew exactly what to do to trick Tempest. He wasn't sure if it was what Tara had had in mind...but he was willing to go as far as he needed.

"I don't need you to buy me more time. I know what to do."

"Wow, really? Well, great."

They turned around and walked back to where Tempest stood. He was like a beautiful illustration taken straight out of a fairy tale story, with the way he moved as gracefully as a swan and his innocent expressions. In fact, he reminded Link a lot of fairies. But he was a darker, deadlier fairy, surrounded by an atmosphere of innocence as well as something menacing he couldn't discern. Link hadn't truly noticed before, but being around Tempest made him uneasy. And he already knew that it made Tara uneasy, too.

"Tempest, how old are you?" Link asked.

By that time, the sword had disappeared. Just as mysteriously as it had appeared.

"I don't know. My clock says...one hour?"

He fiddled again with his necklace, and Link realized with a series of chills that it wasn't a necklace. It was a pocket watch. A large, green, hauntingly familiar pocket watch.

"Taralisse..." he murmured under his breath.

"I know, just keep going."

"Ahem. Tempest. Do you want to play a game?"

"A game? What kind of game?" he smirked.

It was a smile unlike anything Link had ever seen before. It was both innocent and cruel; quiet and loud; inviting and frightening. He didn't know what to make of it except that he was getting himself into something terrible.

"A bet."

"Explain it to me," he said.

His entire comportment had changed. He no longer looked like a child, and he could not be mistaken for one. Even in the light of the temple, the shadows appeared over his face in an ominous darkness. The sudden heaviness, the fire in his eyes, made Link consider turning back. But there was no turning back.

"All right. You give me three days in the temple."

Tempest lifted his chin, suddenly skeptical.

"Three days to do what, exactly?"

"You know what I'm trying to do."

"You're trying to bring someone back from the dead," he hissed. "You're trying to do the impossible, hero."

"So give me three days in the temple."

"Three days, huh?"

"Three days, no more, no less."

He could feel Tara's eyes watching him, and Zelda's voice was growing louder in his mind.

_Link, please don't..._

"What are the terms?" Tempest asked, a smirk on his face.

"If I successfully do what I need to do...then you let me bring her back and leave us be."

"And if you don't? If you fail after three days?"

_No. Don't do this. Not after my sacrifice for you. _

Link took a deep breath.

"If I fail, you can kill me."

"_Are you crazy?!_" Tara cried.

She pushed against his arm until he stumbled, but he would not break eye contact with Tempest. He needed him to know that he was serious. This was no longer a joke, no longer just a game. This was truly life or death, and Link knew that. Tempest knew it, too. Link could tell from the smile on his face that he knew.

"You're willing to risk it all, are you, hero?" he tempted.

"Of course."

"All right. But I get to set the rules."

"Fine."

"Link, you can't do this," Tara said. "You can't throw away your life." Her voice was low and dark and angry, and Link had to try his very hardest to appear unshaken.

"I'm not throwing it away. I'm just using it," he responded. Then he turned back to Tempest. "What are your rules?"

Tempest grabbed the chain around his neck and lifted it over his head, holding it forward just as he had in all of the dreams Link had had. He almost winced, stepped backward, closed his eyes, but he forced himself to stand still and tall. Slowly, the pocket watch began to swing back and forth like the ticking of a clock.

"You can use this pocket watch to travel back in time. Not forward, only backward."

"How does it work?"

Tempest shrugged almost cruelly.

"You'll have to figure that out yourself. Part of the rules," he said. "You can use it to travel back in time. Within the next three days, you can use it as often as you like. Starting from midnight tonight, until midnight on the third night. It will take you back in time for two hours—both in the past and in the present. You will spend two hours in the past, and return two hours after you originally travelled in the present. Got it so far?"

"I...I think so."

"Good. Now, here comes the fun part," he smiled. Link swallowed as discreetly as possible. "You can't just travel back and find her and save her, like you think you can. That's not how it'll work. That would be much too easy."

"Then what do I have to do? It doesn't matter, I'll do it," Link said.

"You have to travel back to a specific point. A specific place and a specific point in time, and you have to change what's happening at that specific point. I'll decide the event."

"I don't—"

"It might have nothing to do with Zelda. Or it could be an arbitrary point in time that I want you to change. And once you change it, I'll bring Zelda back for you and all of the present will change."

"There has to be some way for me to figure what point in time you mean," Link sighed. "It's not really a game if it's completely unfair."

"Hmm, I suppose you're right." Tempest paused, pursed his lips, mulled over his thoughts. "All right, how about this. Each time you return to the present, I'll tell you how close or how far off you were, and I might give you a hint."

"Fine."

"Oh, one more thing," he said. "Each time you come back to the present, whatever you did in the past will reset. Even the event you change for me will be reversed to the way it as originally."

"Otherwise the entire world would fall into chaos," Tara interjected.

"Right. _You_ can't change the past, hero. _I_ can. And I'll change it for you if you win."

Link fell into silence for a few moments, trying to wrap his mind over this strange set of game rules. Tara was standing beside him, and he could practically feel her anger, but he decided to ignore it for the time being. More questions were popping into his head with each moment, but before he could ask, Tara spoke.

"Wait, Tempest. How are you even able to do this?" she asked.

"I'm not constrained by time like you are," he said with his old, innocent smile. "After all, I'm the guardian of time. I can travel with it or against it and bend it as I please."

"What I mean to say is, I don't think the goddesses will appreciate it if you bring someone back from the dead..."

"It's just a game," he replied. "Pretty harmless, considering it's way more likely that you'll die."

"Great," Link mumbled.

"So, do we have a deal, hero?" Tempest pursued. He reached his hand out, with its dark nails and scratched up skin and trails of blood. Link stared at it for a few moments, wondering if it were too late to back down.

_You can't, you can't, you can't,_ Zelda kept repeating in his mind. _Not after what I did for you._

_ I have to_, he responded. _For you. For me. For us._

"Link, don't do this, it's too much," Tara added. "Look, I know I'm crazy, all right? But even I can see that this is _insane_."

Link held his breath and reached out his hand.

"It's a deal."

They shook hands, Link felt a shock run through his body and the ring begin to burn like fire, and Tempest handed him the pocket watch.

"How fun," he said. "You have until midnight tonight."

Tara had walked away, pacing and smoking and unable to even look at Link because she was so angry. And he could barely see straight anymore through the waves of his regret and determination and thirst for vengeance against himself. Then, Tempest threw his head back and laughed. Not an evil, maniacal laugh. A childish laugh.

"Then the game begins."

* * *

"Taralisse."

"Go away."

"Taralisse—"

"I don't want to see your stupid pretty face."

"Please, Taralisse."

"I don't care what you want to say, I'm too angry to listen."

"I need your help."

"Yeah? Well that sucks, 'cause you're not getting it."

She was still pacing and smoking and he was trying desperately to get her attention, but each time he stepped in front of her she turned her back and walked the other way. He even tried grabbing her arm a couple times, but she would wrestle out of his grasp more strongly than he had expected. He tried, over and over, but she kept pushing him away. Meanwhile Tempest sat, calmly and quietly, beside the Pedestal of Time. He leaned his elbow against it and kept his eyes closed, lost in something neither Tara nor Link could see. It almost looked as if he were asleep, but Link questioned whether someone like Tempest even slept at all. There was a silent understanding that he was not to be bothered.

"Taralisse!"

"Go figure it out yourself, since it seems like you have all the answers."

"I don't have them all, I don't," he urged. He could sense himself beginning to get desperate, but Tara was like a wall. Tall, cold, immovable.

"Stop, your voice is annoying."

"_Please!_"

Link lunged forward, grabbed the back of her arms, flung her around until she was forced to face him. And he just held her there, staring into her eyes and breathing in the smoke that was coming from her lips.

"Let go."

"You told me you would help me," he said.

"I'm not going to 'help' you throw your life away."

"Isn't that what we were doing before?" he pressed.

"No! It wasn't!"

"There was always the chance that something bad would happen."

"And now it's with almost 100% certainty. I hope you're happy."

She tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he held tight. He was not going to let this slide. Because, looking at that pocket watch, he knew that he needed her help. He needed her help desperately if there was even the slightest chance of his survival.

"I need you. I need this. I...I need her."

"None of it matters if you're _dead!_"

"Listen, please," he pleaded. "At this point, you are my only hope of survival. Help me. I-I'm begging you."

"You've been doing a lot of that lately."

"I'll do it as much as I have to."

He stared deeply into her eyes so that she knew. He was serious. He was not going to give up until she did. Her expression was steely, the same expression that struck fear to his core. With that pipe hanging from her lips and the infinite jewelry...she was the perfect manifestation of fatal femininity. And he felt it.

"Please, Taralisse. Please."

There were a few moments of terrible silence, where he felt that she was about to puff out her smoke and turn around again and leave forever. Leave him to figure everything out without half the knowledge that she had.

"Until midnight, you don't talk to me. You don't even _look_ at me, all right? I'll have it figured out."

With that, she grabbed the pocket watch from his hands, turned so ferociously that her braid whipped his face, and walked off to sit beside Tempest in silence. He didn't move when she sat down, and she didn't seem as if she were expecting him to. Link wondered, in the midst of his nearly blinding relief, why she had decided to sit next to him. And yet somehow, it seemed only natural that she do so. Natural in a strange, obscure, mysterious way. They sat in complete silence, ignoring everything around them, but sitting so close that their legs brushed.

Link decided that he needed to sleep, because come midnight, Tempest was right. The game would begin. And so, he walked over to the wall, took off his sheath and shield, slid defenselessly, and fell asleep in moments. Although, just like every other night for the past year...it was a terrible, nightmare-ridden sleep, filled with Zelda's comforting voice and soothing, unreal touch.

* * *

**Playing a dangerous, hella confusing game. **

**Sowwy.**


	19. Telling Stories

**Helloooooo**

**This one is kind of all over the place, but regardless, I hope you enjoy it! **

**Poor Link. **

**Sorry, but we readers and writers here on FanFiction love exploiting your emotions.**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Telling Stories

That night, it was in the temple itself.

Link was standing behind the pedestal, trying to put his sword in. But he couldn't find his sword. He couldn't wrap his fingers around its hilt, and he couldn't slide it in the way he could in reality. And the entire temple was dark, not lit up in the divine manner it usually was. He looked up at the windows, but he saw only blackness staring back down at him. The entire time, he continued his futile attempts to plunge the sword into its rightful place, but it seemed as if he couldn't get a grasp on anything.

"Link."

That voice echoed throughout the room, throughout the innermost crevices of his mind. He looked up desperately to see her shadow standing in the very center of the temple, arms reaching forward from the darkness.

"Come closer. Please," he replied.

She shook her head and beckoned him forward with her shapeless fingers. For some reason, Link didn't want to leave the pedestal. He didn't want to stop trying to put his sword there. But he couldn't ignore her requests. So, as if moving through molasses, he made his way toward her. It seemed that the closer he was, the darker she became, her figure becoming lost and ambiguous in the shadows. As he approached, he grew more desperate. He reached his own hands out to grab hers, squeezed her fingers in his, vowed to himself that he would never again let go. As soon as he touched her, her figure exploded in a flash of light, and he could finally see her face, her smile, ever curve and detail of her body. He let out a deep, cleansing sigh of relief.

"I'm here," she said. "I'm right here, always."

"But you know it's not always."

"Of course it is."

She grinned at him and held his hands as if it were the last time. The first time and the last time. She stepped forward, put her forehead and the palms of her hand on his chest. Breathed life into his skin. The love with which she touched him was frightening.

"I'm right here," she whispered.

He put his hands around her arms and touched his lips to her hair.

It was the first time since she had begun appearing in his dreams that Link knew, consciously, that it wasn't real. That it was just a dream. That he had conjured her from the deepest memories of his mind and that the face he saw, the touch he felt, the tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes, were all from his memory. Every single detail.

"You're not here," he murmured. "You're not. You're gone."

"Shh..."

"You're gone, it's my fault, you're gone."

"No, my sweet Link. No."

"I have to bring you back. I have to see you. I have to know that your face, right here, right now, is really your face. Not just the face of someone I've created in my head."

Zelda lifted her face and stared into his eyes. Without moving her gaze, she began tracing patterns along the muscles of his arms, his chest, down to his waist. Then she stood up on her toes, leaned against him, pressed her lips sadly against his. He wasn't sure he had ever felt such a sad kiss. It was salty with tears, bitter with anguish, but soft with passion and resignation. When he put his arms around her, he felt that she was shaking. She pulled away and held her face close to his, looked as desperately into his eyes as one could.

"This is my face," she said. "This is _my_ face."

"How do I know that?" he breathed, almost inaudibly. His lips were grazing hers, his fingers hovering over her skin, so close and so far all at once. "How do I know?"

"Touch my lips."

He lifted his trembling fingers and brushed her slightly parted lips, closed his eyes as she closed hers.

"Don't open your eyes," she continued. "Just feel my lips, my breath."

Warmth, the pure manifestation of love and beauty itself. It became overwhelming. His knees began to tremble, and he found it harder and harder to choke back his sobs.

"Do you feel?" she asked.

"I don't know."

"Hold me more tightly."

Link wrapped his arms around her delicate frame and, burying his face in her neck, held her. He squeezed her, tried to meld his body into hers, let his tears slip into the silky strands of her hair. He could hold back no longer, and the sobs erupted against her skin. All while she breathed into his ear, so close that he could feel her smile.

"Do you feel, Link? Do you feel me?"

He could only nod, squeeze her more tightly.

"This is me. I'm right here."

"You're right here," he sobbed. "You're right here."

"Always."

"Always."

* * *

"Do you know what he plans to do? Did you talk to him?" Shad asked.

He, Ashei, and Carlotta were still sitting, like fixtures, in the small restaurant where they had seen people walk in and out without a trace. When he glanced at the windows, he saw darkness beginning to spread through the city streets. They had been sitting for at least three hours, letting the words flow like rivers from their eager mouths. Each time one question was answered, another appeared. Of course, Shad had long ago come to accept the fact that his curiosity and thirst for knowledge would never be quenched.

"I'm not sure exactly, but I do know that he is determined," Carlotta nodded. "He'll do whatever it takes."

"We know," Shad and Ashei said in unison.

"What I don't understand is how he plans on manipulating time itself," he voiced. "I mean, simply the concept is baffling, and yet he is there now, doing who knows what!"

"Oh, I know what he is doing," Carlotta smirked. "I know exactly what he is doing."

Shad and Ashei stared at her, wide-eyed in anticipation.

"He's following his heart."

"Oh, geez," Ashei sighed. "I thought you actually had an idea."

"What, an old coot like me? Understand something like time?" she laughed. "Of course, I was once able to understand things like that, but alas. This is no longer that era."

"I meant to ask you this question," Shad smiled, "but I suppose I was never able to properly voice it. How exactly did you come to meet the king?"

"It's a funny story, actually. I was in love."

"In love? With the king?"

"No, no. I was in love with one of the Royal Family tutors," she grinned.

Shad felt his cheeks growing hot as Ashei pressed her leg against his beneath the table. He glanced at her face, but it revealed nothing.

"I snuck into the castle one day to see him. I was awfully young, you know. Twenty-two years old—the king was twenty-five. It was before Princess Zelda had been born, of course. I'm sure you know this but the king was extraordinarily old when she was born. Sixty years old! But I am getting distracted. We were all young and energetic, and I was so in love. So I snuck into the castle to see him. But I suppose I wasn't as sneaky as I thought. They caught me within moments!"

She leaned back in her chair and laughed, and Shad and Ashei laughed along with her.

"My beau was angry with me, of course, though he tried to get them to release me. But the king himself wanted to meet me. And so he did. He took a liking to me and invited me back the next day, and soon enough, I was a regular visitor there at the castle."

"What about your lover?" Ashei pressed.

"Well, that story didn't have such a happy ending. Although he was a wonderful man. He eventually became one of Princess Zelda's private tutors—her favorite. But she was so young...he left very soon after, and I doubt she ever remembered his name."

"That's terrible. Poor guy. Must've had a rough time, yeah?" Ashei pouted.

Carlotta shrugged and played with her shawl, because she had stopped ordering tea about an hour earlier.

"He made his own decisions, went on his own path. And he was happy with it, I hear."

"Hey, Shad," Ashei began. "That story reminds me...didn't Auru mention once that he worked in the castle at one point?"

Before Shad could answer, he saw Carlotta's expression, and it silenced him completely. The blood had drained from her face and she was suddenly staring at them as if they were ghosts. Her hands, clawing at that shawl, were shaking.

"D-did you say, Auru?"

"Yes..." Shad replied, concern rippling in his voice.

"That name, it brings me so many memories," she finally smiled. "I snuck into the castle for that man."

"_What?!_"

Shad and Ashei both leaned forward in their chairs. She widened her eyes beyond human capacity while he, nervous and anxious, fixed his glasses over and over even though they were just fine.

"Y-you mean, Auru was Princess Zelda's tutor?"

"That's right."

"And you—he—huh?" Ashei gaped.

"We were quite in love."

Shad was ready to leave. He was ready to crawl into his room, collapse on his bed, and let all the ideas sink in while he dreamt of fairies. This was too much in one day. He began gathering his things, even though Ashei made no sign of wanting to join him.

"It was so lovely meeting you," he stuttered, "but we really must be going now."

"Oh, so soon?" she grinned ironically.

"Aw, Shad, we were just getting to the good part!"

"I still have so many stories to tell. Although I must thank you for indulging me _this_ far," she chuckled.

"Hey, I have an idea! Why don't you come to the tavern tomorrow, you know the one, Telma's, yeah? Why don't you come down and meet him, face to face! We're almost always there," Ashei said.

Shad was getting lightheaded and so, remained silent, flipping through pages of his notebook but not really reading anything. Carlotta looked as if rain had washed over her, brought her youth again. She simply looked at them and nodded.

"I would love that," she whispered. "I would really love that."

"Tomorrow then," Ashei smiled. "I'm looking forward to it, yeah?"

"Me as well," Shad managed. "But for now, I'm afraid we must go."

Together, the two of them waved goodbye, thanked the old woman for enlightening their afternoon in such a wonderful way, and left for the castle. They were just in time for the Royal Council meeting, though Shad was hardly paying attention. He kept glancing over at Auru (they had agreed to keep Carlotta's arrival a surprise), kept glancing over at Ashei, who he assumed was just as confused and curious and distracted as he was. After all, they were much more similar than they were given credit for. As soon as the meeting adjourned, Ashei met him back in his room, where they spoke about what had happened for hours, and kissed, and slipped into bed so they could hear each other's breathing with the sunrise.

* * *

Link awoke to a cold, refreshing hand pressed against his forehead and Tara's face above him. But as soon as he oriented himself, as soon as he understood where he was, as soon as he realized that he had been dreaming, he shivered. And then he couldn't stop. As he sat in the temple, he continued shivering without understanding why, and Tara's expression grew more concerned.

"You're burning up," she said, more to herself than to him. "In the name of Nayru, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"What t-time is it?" he managed through chattering teeth.

She paused, looking down at the ground as she straightened up.

"Eleven thirty."

"D-did you f-figure out th-the pocket w-watch?" he asked.

Tara still didn't look at him, but she nodded.

"For the most part, yes. But your fever is through the roof. I don't know if you should—"

"I-I-I have t-to..."

The truth was that he was in immense pain. But if he was being honest with himself, it didn't matter that he was in pain. He had waited one year for this. He was not about to back down from his chance, his one and only chance, to bring her back because of this. But when he looked at Tara, she looked resilient. The worst kind of resilient.

"I doubt you can even stand," she said bluntly.

In an attempt to prove her wrong, Link placed his palms on the ground and, with much more effort than usual, pushed himself to his feet. But as he should have guessed, Tara was not one to be easily proven wrong. Almost as soon as he was standing, he crumpled from the weakness of his shaking knees, and Tara stepped in to support him.

"There's no way this is happening. You need to rest."

"I-I have t-to g-go."

"Aw. I want to play the game," Tempest interjected. Link had not even noticed him standing there behind Tara, watching with curious eyes. In fact, he was standing oddly close to her. As if in need of her protection from something that was nameless and faceless and probably didn't even exist.

"He can't even say a single sentence without sounding like a broken toy," Tara sighed.

Link was trying to fight off the feelings of resignation, but it was getting more difficult as he found himself leaning more against her. Because he was simply too weak to stand on his own.

"We made a deal, so I'm going to stick to it. Put him back down," Tempest said.

After giving Tempest one of her infamously condescending glares, Tara helped Link sit back down against the wall. He couldn't help noticing the way they interacted—as if they had known each other for years, were comfortable enough to look at each other with looks of condescension. Everything about him—in fact, everything about _her_ was still shrouded in mystery. She was acting as if her fainting spell, her uncontrollable shivers, the way she had reacted when she first saw Tempest, had never happened. It made him increasingly uncomfortable. Then again, everything at that point was making him increasingly uncomfortable.

Tempest had taken on his childish comportment once more. But when he crouched, low enough to stare into his eyes, Link could only remember the shadowy Tempest. The one who had stared down at him with fiery eyes, the one who had let the shadows play on his face, the one who had been frighteningly dark. Here he was, like a child again, but Link couldn't see him like that. Not anymore. And he still wasn't entirely sure who he was, because Tara's definitions had never made much sense to him. And he still didn't know why Tara had reacted the way that she had. He had never seen her that way, and he wasn't sure that he would ever see her that way again.

"Stay very still, hero," Tempest ordered, and Link didn't have much of a choice. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Don't move."

Suddenly, Link felt the calloused palms of Tempest's hands pressing against his chest, pushing him against the wall—hard. Link clenched his teeth but tried to stay as still as possible. Then, he realized how warm Tempest's bloody hands were. The warmth seeped through his tunic, lay softly against his skin for a few moments, and then spread like wildfire through his entire body. It released the tension in his muscles, made his teeth stop chattering, gave him respite from the terrible cold he had been feeling only moments before. And then, there was a single moment when Link could hear every single function in his body with excruciating detail: the pumping of blood in his veins, the grinding of his bones, the stretching of his muscles, the beating of his heart. The sounds became crystal clear in his head, but only for that single moment.

Then he opened his eyes and he felt as if he had rested for days, his face bright and his mind refreshed. Tempest's face was still in front of him, smiling in triumph.

"That should do it. Now we can play," he said.

With almost no effort, Link stood up, bouncing on his heels to get his blood pumping. Tara was staring at him with narrowed eyes, as if he were an experiment being carried out that hadn't yielded the desired results. She uncrossed her arms and stepped closer, until she was right beside Tempest.

"...What did you just do?" she asked him, still looking at Link. "You didn't do what I think you did, did you?"

"I feel wonderful. Like I've been resting for days."

"Oh my gosh, you did!"

Tara's face lit up at that, and she took another step forward and began examining Link like a lab mouse. She lifted his right arm, his left arm, pressed her ear against his heart, slapped his cheeks lightly. And, though Link knew that Tara was completely oblivious, Tempest was staring at her with an expression that could only be described as enamored. He didn't even spare Link a passing glance—his eyes were glued to Tara.

"What is it, exactly, that he did?" Link asked.

"Oh, my goddesses!" she exclaimed, ignoring his question.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Tempest said.

"Enjoying _what?_" Link pressed.

Finally, Tara looked up at him with a broad smile. Something that was so rare to see on her face.

"You said that you feel as if you'd been resting for days, right?" she said.

"Yes, that's what it feels like."

"It's because that's exactly what you've been doing. Tempest sped up time, but only within your body. He sped up the healing process, so your body felt the healing of days. In a single moment!"

"He...he what?"

"You're smart," Tempest smiled. "I didn't think you could figure it out."

"Please. Time is everything to me. Of course I can figure it out," Tara chuckled without looking at him. "I even figured out the pocket watch."

"You're a genius," Link sighed.

She stared up at him, patted his cheek once with a confident grin turning up her lips.

"Tell me something I _don't_ know."

"All right. You're—"

"Shh, never mind. But let me ask you something else. Did you feel sick at all yesterday?"

"No."

"Not even a little bit?"

"Not at all."

"Then where did that fever even come from?"

Link shrugged and decided not to tell Tara the dream. Somehow, he believed that the fever had come from Zelda's touch. The one that he imagined with such detail that it made him physically sick. That was what he believed. But the less Tara knew about Zelda, the better, in his opinion. After all, if she was going to hide things from him, it was only fair that he hide things from her.

"You are so strange in so many ways," she mused.

"And I could say the same for you."

With a smirk, Tara stuffed a chocolate—that seemed to have appeared like magic in her fingers—in her mouth and lifted the pocket watch that had been lying in her pocket.

"Okay, pretty boy, you have fifteen minutes before midnight. Let me show you how it works. And pay attention. I'm only gonna say it once. Got it?"


	20. Wind with Claws

**Meow. **

**That is all I have to say about this 'un. **

**Have fun!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty: Wind with Claws

Tara aggressively grabbed his elbow and led him to the center of the room, which for some reason, she said was essential for the pocket watch's strange scientific attributes to work to their full potential. Link almost couldn't hear her over the pounding of his heart. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alive, so ready, so motivated to open his eyes and wield his sword and fight for something. This was what he believed in now, what he lived for. And, potentially, what he was going to die for. Tara moved to stand in front of him, told him to open his hands, and put the pocket watch into his palms. Slowly moving to join them was Tempest, walking as if on water to stand beside her.

Link tried not to look at him for too long. He had resumed his dark Tempest, the one whose shadowy gaze could strike unavoidable fear into the heart of any human. In fact, his eyes were almost hidden by the pure darkness. His face was like stone—smooth, cold stone. Link thought that if he looked into those abysmal eyes for too long, he would crumble and shrink back, and he couldn't afford that. But, somehow, Tara seemed unfazed. She glanced over at him, watched his face for a couple silent moments, and then turned back to Link as if nothing had happened.

"All right. Open the pocket watch," she began.

Link obeyed. The clock on the inside was small and decaying, but the hands were moving fine. Watching them tick like that made his head ache from the memories of the loud ticking in his dreams, even though the pocket watch itself was as silent as the night.

"Try moving the hands."

He grabbed the tiny hand, realizing that the face of the clock was open, and moved it. It ran like water with the movement of his fingers. He moved the other hand as well, until they were both pointing to the twelve at the top of the clock.

"Good. That will determine the exact time at which you'll appear in the past."

"Okay."

"Now, run your fingers along the outer circle of the pocket watch, without closing it."

As the tip of his finger ran along the circle, just as she had order, he felt ridges. Like rows of teeth sticking out from the circumference, eager to devour. When he looked closer, he saw the ridges, too. There were three rows.

"The first row, closest to the face of the watch, will determine how many years back you go. The second row will determine the month. The third row will determine the day. They're not labeled, though, so you have to work relative from the twelve at the top of the clock."

"O-okay."

"Listen, I would do this myself, but you might find yourself stuck at one point needing to use this, so that's why I'm telling you. Now. We have five minutes. Let's practice. I want you to go back three years, the fourth month of the year, the 20th day, at 5:00 in the evening. Try it."

Still confused and working mostly on instinct, Link first turned the hands on the clock until it read 5:00. He glanced up at her, and she was widening her eyes.

"Five in the _evening_."

He turned the hands around the entire clock one more time, and she nodded in approval. Next, was three years back. He touched the ridge that was directly above the twelve on the clock, thought for a few moments, then turned it to the third ridge. Tara nodded again. Fourth month of the year next. He did the same with the second row of ridges, turning to the fourth relative to the number twelve. And finally, the twentieth day. This was the most difficult because he had to keep count of the ridges passing by the twelve, but he eventually got it. With a light smile, Tara patted his back.

"Not bad, Mr. Hero."

"How do I actually travel?"

"All right, here comes the hard part. You have to stand in the center of the room—"

"Why the center?"

"It's complicated, all right? So, you stand in the center. Just like you are. Perfect."

Tempest hadn't moved his gaze, this time, from Link's face. He had the expression of a hungry animal, eyeing its prey just before pouncing and digging its fangs into his flesh. But when he noticed Link glance at him for a single moment, he smiled. A tempting, chilling, almost seductive smile.

"Now, in order for the pocket watch to work, you have to hold it out. Then you have to let it swing, back and forth, like a pendulum."

"Like I saw in the dream."

She paused, completely still.

"Yes," she finally said, "like you saw in the dream. And then you say what you heard in the dream, too. 'Time. Time is alive. Time is like a tempest.' Then the pocket watch will take you back."

"Tara, how on earth did you figure that out?" he gaped.

"Years," she whispered. "Years and years and years of this shit running through my head, like knowing how to breathe runs through yours."

"Okay then. Oh, but there's something else. How do I—?"

"How do you travel to a specific place. I know, I know," she sighed. "This is the hardest part. There's no way to pinpoint it on the pocket watch. And you might have to try a couple times before you've got it down. Essentially, you have to whisper the name of the place under your breath in that single moment before you travel."

"So after I say the charm, and before I travel."

"Yes. But you only have a moment. I'm guessing that if you don't get it in time, it'll take you back here. But when you leave, you'll be in the past. The same thing will happen if you say a place that didn't exist in the time you're travelling to. You think you got it?"

At that point, Link had no choice but to be confident.

"Yes."

"Good. Now, when we travel back, we'll have two hours. After the two hours, I don't know what's going to happen. Since, you know, I've never done this before. So we have to brace ourselves."

"Wait...we?"

She cocked her hip and smiled.

"You didn't think I was going to let you do this on your own, did you?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, he just looked over at Tempest. He grinned again and nodded his head, slowly but surely.

"She can go with you," he said. "I'll let that be a rule."

In a way, Link was relieved. But he didn't want to let Tara see that. Then again, she could most likely read the relief in the relaxed features of his face.

"Actually..." Tempest continued. "I'll come, too."

"Wait, what?" they both said in unison.

"We can all go. It will make things more interesting."

Link looked over at Tara, hoping for someone who would stay by him when he attempted to argue, but as soon as he saw her expression he knew he wouldn't get that support. For she already looked as if she had accepted it. She shrugged, turned back to the pocket watch, examined it more closely. Link knew he was already defeated, so he just let it go. He would no longer be the only one travelling back in time. Not the way it used to be. And for the first time, he felt that he had someone there to help him. To stand by him when he tried to bring back the one person he loved more than anything.

_This is a good thing,_ he told himself. _This is a good thing. _

"When we travel, we have to hold hands," Tara added absentmindedly. "Or be making some kind of physical contact—"

"Holding hands is fine."

"All right then, holding hands it is."

There was a pause, a tense lull in the conversation The three of them looked back and forth at one another—Link fidgety and determined, Tara excited and smug, Tempest fierce and ruthless.

"So, Mr. Hero," she finally said. "Where to first?"

Link opened his mouth, closed it. Thought over what he wanted to say. Opened his mouth again.

"Can I go alone the first time?"

Tara and Tempest looked at each other. She seemed a bit angry, while he seemed a bit amused. But Link had his reasons.

"Please. I just feel like this is something I have to do by myself. At least the first time."

"Why?" she demanded.

"I...I have my reasons."

"If Tara stays, I stay," Tempest said.

For a split second, she looked over at him and glared, as if she were about to smack him for having the nerve to say something like that. But she didn't. And Link could have sworn he saw her cheeks grow red—even if it was just for a moment. Finally, with a heavy sigh, Tara made a dismissive gesture with her graceful wrist and rolled her eyes.

"Fine, fine. You can go by yourself this time. But we're there with you next time, yeah?" she cried.

"Of course," he nodded.

"You have two minutes," Tempest said. "Wind her up and, as soon as the clock strikes midnight, you can be on your way. We'll be waiting when you get back."

With another solemn nod, Link looked back at the pocket watch and set it to the time, the number of years back, the month, the day. And he prepared to whisper the name of the place. But his fingers were shaking so hard that he found it difficult to get the ridge numbers right. But eventually, he did get it. As soon as he did, he heard a large, ominous, invisible clock striking midnight. And like a gong, it rang out, making him shake even more. He looked up at Tara with wide eyes, lowered the pocket watch to begin swinging it. She gave him a nod of encouragement, and right before he let the pocket watch begin swinging, he saw her whisper, "Good luck."

As the pocket watch swung back and forth, back and forth, he closed his eyes and let himself feel the swaying. Get a sense of the rhythm, lose himself in the waves of time. The ticking became like bells in his head, like motivation pushing the words from his mouth.

"Time. Time is alive. Time is like a tempest."

As soon as the last letter rose from his lips, he felt a strong wind beginning to pull him back—not push him back, as wind usually does. But wind with claws, grabbing his shoulders and pulling back toward a place that Link couldn't see because the wind kept him from turning his face. But as soon as he felt the claws digging into his shoulders, he whispered to the wind under his breath:

"Hyrule Castle."

Then he closed his eyes and spread out his arms (making sure to keep hold of the pocket watch) and let the wind take him away to a place where he hoped he could regain his sanity and his soul.

* * *

After Link said the phrase Tara had dictated to him, he evaporated in a swirl of wind. There was not a single trace left of him as Tara and Tempest stood, staring at the spot in which he had been standing only moments before. She bit her lower lip in an attempt to hide her excitement, but it was difficult. She clenched her fists and began bouncing lightly on her heels, while Tempest stood like a statue beside her. She needed chocolate, her pipe, to take off her pants—anything to release this ecstasy building up inside her.

"It worked," she gasped. "It actually worked."

"You figured it out much more quickly than I thought you would, to be honest," he sighed.

She glanced over at him. He was no longer the dark, looming Tempest. But he wasn't the innocent, childish Tempest either. He was a combination of the two personalities. For, as Tara had come to acknowledge, he did have two personalities. Like there were two different people battling for dominance inside of him. Though he didn't seem to mind it, or even be aware of it. He simply flowed like a river with the changes of his soul—or, whatever it was that was changing. And now here was a third. He was smiling at her, but it wasn't a frightening, cruel smile. It wasn't a childish smile. It was simply a smile. The most pure kind of smile.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Sure."

"Why did you agree to do this?"

He shrugged as he walked past her, toward the pedestal, where he sat and leaned against it. But as he passed her, his hand slightly grazed hers, in a manner that she couldn't say was deliberate. Of course, she couldn't say that it was accidental, either. It simply was. And it gave her shivers unlike anything she had ever felt before. Tempest, there in front of her, made her feel as if she herself had descended into either a dream or insanity.

Tara knew him. She knew who he was, what he stood for. It scared her senseless to see him there in front of her and with every moment that passed, she felt more tempted to slip back into that state. The one in which she could do nothing but sit and shake, because seeing him was too overwhelming. But she didn't want to show that side of herself again.

_Once is definitely enough._

"I thought it would be interesting," he finally said.

Tara walked over to where her bag was sitting, near the pedestal. She sat down beside it, grabbed a chocolate and her pipe, and put both in her mouth. She inhaled as deeply as she could because it helped distract her from Tempest sitting too close to her. Too close for her to feel comfortable, and yet too far for her to move. Always too far.

"I think you're lying," she replied.

"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not."

She glanced over at him over her shoulder, blew smoke into his face. He smiled and laughed, and she saw his inner child appearing. Perhaps he had never seen the smoke before. Or perhaps he had never seen an expression as discreetly furious as Tara's. Either way, it amused him, and he laughed. His laugh was so sweet, so musical, so damn nice, that she couldn't help smiling along with him. Then, just like a little boy reaching out for candy, he extended his arm.

"Can I try it?" he asked.

She was taken aback by the question. It wasn't what she had been expecting. But in a way, it made her happy. Just the way that Tempest was...it made her happy. Happy and terribly frightened, because in the midst of her innocent happiness was an ominous cloud hanging over her head. She knew his reasons for being here. But she was trying to ignore them.

"Try not to choke," she said.

She lifted the pipe and tried to hand it to him, but instead, he put his arm down and leaned forward with his mouth open. Then he closed his eyes and waited. Taken aback even more, Tara hesitated. But after that, she gently put the pipe between his lips. His breath fell, so lightly and so warmly, on the tips of her fingers. He closed his lips on the end of the pipe, so that they just grazed her fingers, but she drew back almost instantly. Trying to ignore the heat and blood now pumping even more ferociously through her veins, she sat down on her hands and suppressed everything and anything.

"Hmm..." Tempest opened his eyes, sucked in the pipe, blew out.

Tara wondered if she had ever smoked so gracefully.

As Tara could have guessed he would, Tempest fell into a fit of coughing, bending forward and letting the pipe fall from his mouth. She tried to hide her smile, but didn't move.

"It takes some getting used to."

"It tastes disgusting," he said hoarsely. She shrugged, reached forward, picked up the pipe. Dusted it off, put it back in her mouth. "Why do you do it?"

"It makes me feel good."

"It makes _me_ feel terrible."

"Yeah, well, you don't have much else to make you feel terrible."

He fell silent. She couldn't bring herself to regret saying that, but she wasn't sure if he completely understood what it meant. His face fell a little bit, until he was back to how he had been earlier. As closest to truly human as he could get, with a hint of empathy and a hint of real emotion in his face. When he opened his mouth again, it was to ask another strange question.

"Tara?"

"Hmm?" she responded between puffs of smoke.

"Do you have a hairbrush?"

"A hairbrush? Why?"

"I want to brush your hair. It's beautiful."

She was at a loss for words. So, instead of answering, she let her body follow her instincts. (Not that she trusted her instincts at all. She was just too tired and lazy to fight them.) She reached into her bag and pulled out the old, breaking hairbrush she had packed. He took it gently, as if he were handling a fragile antique. Tara turned around and, holding the pipe with her teeth, took the braid from her hair and let it fall in waves down her back. It felt like liberation. As she exhaled, she felt his torn, bloody hands take hold of the dark, thick strands.

First, he ran his fingers through it. Worked out the tangles carefully, delicately, paying attention to each single one and maneuvering through it with nimble fingers. She found herself unable to smoke and concentrate on the feel of his hands in her hair at the same time. So she did something strange and decided to put her pipe out. Then, wondering how her heart was letting her, Tara closed her eyes and became lost in Tempest's fingers.

_I have time to kill,_ she though. _At least two hours..._

After he was done working out the tangles—every single one—he grabbed the hairbrush. He started at the very top of her head. He pressed the tips of the brush against her scalp, leaning forward so far that she could feel his breath running down her neck. When he pulled the hairbrush back, she let it pull her head back as well, until her neck was arched and she was facing the ceiling.

"It's even more beautiful than I thought," he said. "It's like...what do you call it? Silk?"

"Thank you," she murmured.

Tara couldn't remember the last time she had been in such a strange situation. It was so difficult for her to accept that this young man, practically a boy, even existed. Let alone that he was brushing her hair, that after only hours of knowing him, she was _letting_ him brush her hair. With her sister's hairbrush.

But, in a way, it was okay. Because, in a way, she knew him already. They were old friends. At least, she liked to imagine that they were. That was why she let him brush her hair. What she couldn't figure out, though, was why she liked it so much.

What she couldn't figure out was why his fingers in her hair, his breath against her neck, his voice speaking so calmly and so beautifully, made her feverish...but still made her shiver.

* * *

**TO INFINITY, AND BEYOND!**


	21. Letting the Dam Break

**It is so late right now and I am so tired but I am posting this anyway because I love you guys. This is actually one of my favorite chapters in the whole story. Stuff actually happens. People make progress. Link is angsty =3 It was just really fun to write, and I hope it is as fun to read! hurhurhur**

**Enjoy :) **

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Letting the Dam Break

When Link's feet first touched the ground, he felt as if he were floating. Like there was a soft, thin, cloudy layer between the soles of his feet and the ground beneath him. The wind had carried him, though he couldn't decide how long it had been. Perhaps a moment—perhaps a whole lifetime. His sense of time had become distorted, almost nonexistent. So he stood for a few moments and gathered his thoughts, tried to remember what the word 'time' meant, what the strange apparatus in his hand was...and then he remembered that time was the monster that had him in its clutches, that he had just used it to his advantage (his disadvantage?), that he was carrying a pocket watch. Desperately, he grasped that understanding. Then he remembered the Hero's words and grasped for anything and everything to which he could still hold on. In case this terrible vortex of twisted time and space tried to rip it away.

He blinked a few times, took a deep breath, and then looked around. He was standing in front of the door to Hyrule Castle. The large, elaborate front entrance, which he had seen so many times. But it seemed different to him. The light shining down upon it was brighter, every beautiful detail stood out to him. He couldn't help but smile as he gazed upon it. His entire body was tingling.

_Did it really work?_

There were two guards standing at the door, holding their spears and staring straight ahead. Link walked up to them, smiled uncertainly, waited for their reaction. There was none. They simply stared ahead. Finally, Link spoke.

"Excuse me. What day is it?"

One of the soldiers told him. Link staggered back as the date solidified itself in his mind. The pocket watch had worked. He was in the past. At the exact day, at the exact time, he had set on the pocket watch. When he opened it, the clock read 5:01.

_Tara, you truly are a genius. _

Then, the real significance hit him.

Hard.

_If I really am back to this day, that means..._

"Excuse me, but I need to get into the castle," he told the soldiers.

They were silent, unresponsive. Did not even acknowledge that he had said anything. The rage was building up again, more quickly than usual. There was so much more at stake—he only had two hours. He needed this, or he would crumble.

"Please—"

"Name," said one of the soldiers. He hesitated, stumbled over his words for a moment.

"Link."

Both soldiers nodded their heads and stepped aside. As if his name were a password, or a spell, or some kind of charm.

"Our apologies, sir."

_But even now, _he thought, _I've already saved Hyrule. Ganondorf has been defeated for about a month today. My name _is _a charm. I bet the tunic helps. _

With a grateful smile, he hurried through the doors, trying desperately to calm his racing heart. The hall looked exactly the same. Its high ceiling, its grandiose architecture, the portraits hanging with those ever-watchful eyes. In a strange way, he felt at home there. But there was still a heavy sensation on his chest, and with each passing minute, it grew heavier. Like a built-in clock, tick, tick, ticking away. Of course, he didn't stop moving. He kept walking, as quickly as he could. At the end of the hall, he stopped to pay his respects at Zelda's portrait...

But as he stood in front of the wall—the blank wall—he recalled again the reason he had come.

It was a couple weeks after Midna's departure. He remembered this date specifically because it was the day, back in Ordon, that Link had received Zelda's letter. The one asking him to come see her in Castle Town. He had no specific goal for this journey—it served no purpose. But he remembered the date, and with this power, the first thing he wanted to do was see her face. Look into her eyes. That was all. And so, practically holding his breath, he made his way the one place where he knew she would be. Even on a beautiful, sunny day like this.

Link walked toward the castle library.

The castle was bustling that day, and understandably so. The kingdom was still in political turmoil at that point, even with the return of the princess. There was not a single person in all of Hyrule who was not trying to get his or her life back together. But he knew, in the midst of the craziness, Zelda would be taking a moment's respite with her books in the library before the evening's Royal Council meeting. His breathing was heavy and all of his limbs were shaking when he pushed open the wooden doors that led into the large, sunlit room. All of his senses were heightened, he was moving faster and was more jittery than usual. He could hardly contain the screams desperate to erupt from his lips. But he suppressed everything—at least for the moment. And he maneuvered around the shelves, around the readers, around the librarians, to the table at the back of the library. The table at which she had always sat, the table at which he sat in the present, the table at which he knew she would be.

Finally, he emerged in the small alcove. And there, sitting in an armchair beside the window, dappled in sunlight and engrossed in a book...was Princess Zelda.

Link was frozen. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. He could only watch. Stare in disbelief, in amazement, in relief. She didn't notice him, for her eyes were glued to the words before her.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. The sun illuminated every detail of her face, made the loose strands of hair falling around her eyes shimmer, gave her a glow of divinity. There was the smallest, gentlest smile on her lips. The kind of smile that only someone who knew her well enough, someone like Link, could recognize as a smile of true happiness. She was sitting in the armchair with one ankle tucked behind the other, her back as straight as an arrow, the book sitting in her lap. The dress she was wearing was one Link didn't recognize. It was white, embroidered in shiny blue silk, with a lacy collar and a slim fit. The only way he could describe her was angelic. Breathtaking. He couldn't move at all.

But he needed to say something.

"Zelda?"

The princess looked up, so innocent, so unaware of everything. Her eyebrows slightly raised, her lips parted in surprise, her eyes only a fraction wider than usual. But how they glowed, how they glimmered. As she looked into his eyes, he felt the tears rising to the verge of his eyelids. Her smile grew wider, like a silent beckon. He took another step forward, out from the shadows of the bookshelves and into the light of her little reading spot. Zelda put her book, face down, on the table, and stood up.

"Link!" she said. "You startled me."

"I..." His voice trailed off. He wasn't sure what to say. But he stepped closer again.

"It's so funny," she smiled. "I just sent you a letter! Well, if I had known that you were coming of your own accord, I would not have bothered."

He was finally close enough to reach forward and grasp her hands. They felt so natural, so beautiful in his. Like food given to a starving man after days and days without food. The princess blinked and, though she didn't draw back, looked confused.

"Is that really you?" he whispered.

"Of course it's me," she said. "Who else would it be?"

The longer he looked into her eyes, the more the tears threatened to spill. He held them back as best he could, but he knew the dam wouldn't last forever.

"Link, are you all right? You look as if you've seen a ghost," Zelda said. Instead of responding, he squeezed her hands more tightly and began slowly shaking his head. "Please, tell me what's the matter. And why you've made a journey back already! It's only been a few weeks, after all—"

"You're so beautiful," he murmured.

Her cheeks turned bright red. Just in the way that he remembered they used to.

"W-well, thank you."

He let go of her hands and placed his palms on her cheeks. Zelda still didn't draw back. But he didn't see the same gaze of affection, the same gaze of passion, she used to give him. He knew why—it was because she hadn't fallen in love with him yet. But he didn't care. He didn't care about any of it. All he cared about was that she was here, in front of him, smiling that subtle smile and looking at him with those serene eyes.

"You're very sweet," she added.

That was when the dam broke.

He didn't have time to see the concerned expression on her face. As soon as the tears began flowing, he wrapped his arms around her, held her against him. The tears spilled from his eyes down against her neck as he buried his face in her hair, held as tightly as he could. Anything she might have been saying was drowned out by his sobs. The shock of it all. The wonder of it all. And yet, in the back of his mind, the knowledge that it was temporary. And the knowledge that she didn't love him. Not yet.

Finally, after a few moments, he felt her lift her arms and hold him as well. She began rubbing his back, up and down, and he could just hardly hear her saying, "Shh. Please don't cry." It only made him cry harder. But he managed to muffle his sobbing, loosen his grip just slightly. He refused to let go, though. And Zelda didn't let go, either.

"I'm right here," she said. "You don't have to cry."

"I'm sorry," he choked.

"I know it's hard for you," she said. Almost as if she understood. "But everything is fine now. You can rest."

He sensed her loosening her grip, and it scared him.

"No, no, please don't let go," he whispered. "Please."

"I won't let go, darling. I won't let go."

He felt her sigh against him.

Each time he felt as if the tears were finally subsiding, there was a new wave, even stronger than the last.

"You poor thing," she murmured. "You're in so much pain."

"Just don't leave," he said. "And don't let go."

"I'm not going anywhere."

It hurt Link to hear her say that, because he knew that she was lying. She just didn't know it. So he kept silent, let the tears fall, and held her as tightly as he could.

* * *

Tempest brushed her hair in sections. After he was done with the first section, he gently placed it over her shoulder. Then he moved to the next section, brushed it until it was as smooth as Tara had ever felt it, and then placed that one over her shoulder as well. She sat, cross-legged and silent in front of him, eyes closed. The brushing had become rhythmic, so rhythmic that it nearly lulled her to sleep. But she stayed awake, just so that she wouldn't miss a moment. Nothing had felt so nice in a long time. And the silence between them was a smooth kind of silence, a silence that only felt natural.

As Tempest finished brushing the last section of her hair, she sighed and nearly fell back in perfect exhaustion.

"How long has it been?" she asked.

"An hour and a half."

"Only half an hour left."

"I suppose so."

She looked over her shoulder at him, looked at him through the sides of her eyes, played with the mass of hair falling over her shoulder. His face was right there, smiling. She hadn't noticed how green his eyes were before that moment. And then she realized that his fingers were still there against her skin...hovering just below the back of her neck. Just his fingertips like tiny lightning bolts. As soon as she realized, she turned away. She didn't tell him to move. But she turned away. Felt the electric shocks in solitude.

"Oh, what's this?" he asked.

"...What?"

"It looks like there's something written on your skin. I can see the top, but the rest is covered by your shirt."

Tara's heart dropped.

"It's a tattoo," she managed.

"A tattoo?"

"Yeah, it's a permanent inking you get on your skin."

"Permanent?"

"Like art on your body."

"Can I see the rest of it?"

She hesitated, bit her lower lip, wished she hadn't put out her pipe.

"S-sure."

She still didn't turn around. Tempest's fingers lightly grasped the back of her shirt, lowered it until it was over her shoulders and he could see most of her back.

"It's writing. In Ancient Hylian," he said.

"That's right."

"You know Ancient Hylian?"

"Of course I do."

Tara sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers began tracing the words that ran along the skin of her back, making sure to imitate every single detail. Chills covered her skin and she shrunk into herself a little bit, waiting for the terrible moment when he read the tattoo. Read it and understood it. But for the time being, he simply traced it. Traced it and made her skin tremble.

"It's nice," he whispered.

"Thank you."

"'Time is like a...'" he began, but his voice trailed off as he read.

Tara clenched her fists and wanted more than anything a piece of chocolate. Or a pipe. Or anything. Anything to save her from this situation.

"That's my name," he finally said. "My name is tattooed on your back."

"'Time is like a tempest.'"

"Why is my name on your back?"

She took the risk of looking over her shoulder at him. He was staring at her back with a furrowed brow, his fingers tracing the letters that spelled out his name, with the eyes of someone searching for something that just clearly wasn't there. Tara didn't even realize it, but when she spoke, her voice had dropped to a whisper.

"I've known you for a very long time," she said. "A very, very long time."

He began shaking his head, eyes still glued to her back.

"No, no, I've never met you. I've never seen you before. I remember everyone, _everyone_ that I meet."

"Look into my eyes. Look into my eyes and tell me you've never seen these eyes."

She sensed his reluctance as he looked up, obeyed, gazed into her eyes.

"I don't—"

"Come closer. Look closer."

Tempest brought his face so close that his chin rested on her shoulder, the tips of their noses almost touched, his hands grasped her bare forearms. He stared into her eyes with such force that she nearly felt it physically. It was pushing her back, forcing her to finally accept the reality of who he was. Of who _she_ was.

"You know these eyes," Tara told him.

After a few icy moments, Tempest finally blinked.

"Yes. Yes, you're right, I do know these eyes," he replied. "Last time I saw them, they were a different color."

"Brown."

"Brown, yes. They were brown. But they were the same."

"And they belonged to someone else."

Tempest suddenly shrunk back, withdrew, slid away from her hastily. Then he pulled his legs toward his chest and hugged himself, placing his chin on his knees and staring at her skeptically. Like a hermit crab withdrawing into its shell out of sheer fear.

"I remember," he murmured. "I remember. All those years ago. I remember now."

Tara was silent. Everything suddenly became too hard, too real, too fast. "The one five years ago. She had the same eyes as you, but they were brown. And her hair was different, too. It was—"

"Blonde."

"Yes! Pale, pale blonde. Almost white. But her lips were the same as yours. Dark, dark, dark."

Then, without warning, he lay his fingers lightly on her bare shoulders. It relaxed her muscles, made her slouch further, close her eyes. Then she felt his breath against the skin of her back, felt him inhale, exhale. His breathing like fire against her flesh.

"You don't smell like her, either," he murmured.

At that point, she was becoming overwhelmed by his closeness. She stood up and lit her pipe once more. But she didn't tie up her hair. She let it sway back and forth as she began pacing. She could feel its weight, and it felt good. Nice and heavy, but heavy in a way that wasn't burdensome. The kind of heavy that made her smile. She smoked and smoked and smoked until she felt as if her lungs were about to collapse, because for a moment, it distracted her from the fact that Tempest was there, and the fact that Tempest was remembering. All because she had made the stupid decision of letting him see her tattoo.

"Do you..." she began, but she couldn't find the heart to finish. She could hardly find her voice at that point.

"Do I what?"

"Do you remember her name?"

She glanced over at him, and she saw him smile.

"I remember her name. I remember every name. Her name was Nia."

"That's right," Tara breathed. "Nia."

"She was like you in a lot of ways," he observed, hugging himself more tightly. "But she was different, too. She didn't have a tattoo."

"That's because I got the tattoo after she died."

"After she...after she died?"

"Yes," Tara nodded. Inhaled. Absorbed the toxins. Exhaled. "After she died."

"How did you know her, Tara?" he whispered. "And why are you so much like her?"

She laughed a cold, dry laugh, and she could see it make him squirm. But she decided not to break eye contact this time. She decided to smoke her pipe and stare straight at him, try to bury her words into his skull and his heart and his soul (if he even had one). The time for squirming, for hiding, was over.

"I know her," she said, "because she was my older sister."


	22. Tears of a Child

**Soooo I actually love this chapter, not too humble to say it. I think it's one of the better ones of the story, and I hope you guys think so, too! **

**TEN CHAPTERS LEFT WHOAAAAA. **

**I'm also really glad that you are all saying such nice things about my OCs. I know (from my own past opinions) that sometimes in a fandom as intense as the Legend of Zelda, people are really reluctant to see new characters interacting with the old favorite ones. And I think it needs to be handled delicately, and with a lot of purpose. So I thank you all for opening your minds about it with me. It makes writing so much more rewarding. **

**Enjoy Chapter Twenty-Two!**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two: Tears of a Child

Link had asked her to read to him. He wanted just to hear her voice as clearly as he could for as long as he could. He wanted to hear her voice and watch her lips move as she read, let the words flowing from her mouth sweep him away.

"Will you read to me?" he had asked.

"What would you like me to read?"

"Everything—anything."

So they had sat down, she in the armchair and he in another across the table, fiddling with his ring and feeling it burn against his chest. She had opened the nearest book, flipped to the first page, and begun to read. She hadn't asked him why, she hadn't questioned anything, she had only smiled and begun to read. Seeing her like this made a wave of remorse and affection wash over him, a reminder of why he was doing this—a reminder of why he had loved her so much. Why he still loved her. Why he wanted to spend his entire life by her side, bragging to the world that she was his and he was hers. Because when he asked her to read to him, she did. Without needing a reason.

Zelda was reading him a book about the history of the Royal Family. Starting from the beginning (or at least, what they believed to be the beginning) with a queen, regal and elegant and powerful. A queen that led her people to success and a land of beauty. Every few moments, in the midst of her reading, she would glance up at him, make momentary eye contact. And each time he was staring right at her. Still holding back his tears. Then she would smile, blush, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. All while the setting sun colored every feature of her skin. After each silent moment, each silent conversation, she would turn her eyes back to the golden pages of the book and continue to read. And he would continue to listen.

Suddenly, after what seemed like only a moment of this perfect bliss, the earth began to rumble. It started softly, almost unnoticeably. It gradually grew larger, louder, more powerful, until he could hardly keep from falling out of his chair. He looked around him and books were flying off the shelves, the chandeliers were swinging dangerously, and he had to grasp the table just to find some sort of balance. He turned to Zelda, screamed her name as the rumbling became more and more powerful. She looked up at him.

"Yes? What's the matter?"

He noticed then that she was not moving. The rumbling had no effect on her...as if she could see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing but his voice. With shaking hands, he reached for the pocket watch and opened it.

It was 6:59.

Just as he read the clock, he glanced down and saw the ground cracking beneath him. A large, dark, looming abyss began to appear. He knew that his time was up. Desperation heavy in his voice and the trembling of his fingers, he reached across the table one last time. Held Zelda's face in his hands for a moment, basked in the bewildered look in her eyes, kissed her. Kissed her with passion, sadness, so much love that it made his heart ache.

"I love you," he whispered against her lips. "I love you so much."

She stared, wide-eyed, breathless.

"I—"

"Don't say anything," he interrupted. "Don't say anything. Just know that I'm going to keep my promise. I swear to you."

"Link..."

"I love you so much. And I'll come back for you. I promise."

Everything beneath him disappeared. She slipped from his grasp as he fell, aimlessly, reaching up for her. Down through the dark, fiery crack of the earth that called him back to a time where there was no light, no love, no happiness left for him. It dragged him, swept him away, drowned out his screams with the sound of silent agony. As he fell, further and further down, he watched the light grow smaller above him. Smaller...smaller...smaller...

Until he could see nothing but darkness and his tears floating up above him.

* * *

Shad was on the edge of his seat, his eyes looking toward the door. He tried to be discreet about it, but he knew it was pointless. He was not one for subtlety. Ashei kicked him under the table. When that didn't settle his nerves—for it never did—she tried elbowing his ribcage, but that didn't work either. There were very few things that could calm Shad down once he got worked up. Once he got nervous, anxious, apprehensive. Not even Ashei's dangerous glares could do it at that point. For Auru, one of Shad's greatest friends and mentors, was sitting across from him at their usual table, happily drinking his soup, completely unaware of the trap they had set for him.

"H-how was your day, Auru?" he stammered.

"Fine, fine. Not much for an old man like me to do these days," he grinned.

"Oh come on, you're not _that_ old," Ashei said.

"Old enough to be your father, at least."

"But look at you! Still as energetic as a teenager, yeah?"

"If you say so, my dear. If you say so."

Shad began flipping through the pages of his books. It was at random, uncomfortable moments like this that he wished Link were there. His conversations with Link were always so much easier, so much calmer, so much smoother. They could bicker and argue and laugh and let their sarcasm fly without worrying about anything. They could be open. And here he was, struggling to suppress the words on his lips by burying his eyes in the pages of a notebook that he had practically memorized. He couldn't even bring himself to eat, and what made it worse was Ashei. He could feel her just glaring at him, each time he sneaked a peak at the front door...

And then it happened. The same thing as yesterday. The door opened and everyone turned to look because it felt as if life itself was being brought into the bar. There was the old woman, bringing the wind with her and the beautiful, hand-embroidered shawl gifted to her by the King of Hyrule himself. Shad instantly caught his breath, and he had more difficulty than he anticipated turning to look at Auru's reaction.

In fact, Auru didn't have a reaction. He seemed to be the only person in the entire bar who hadn't turned to look. For him, the door had opened and another customer had walked in. And that was that. It wasn't even enough to make him turn his head away from the soup and the map before him. Shad and Ashei glanced at each other, then at Auru, then at Carlotta, and then back at each other. At the same moment, they shrugged. Succumbing to the fact that whatever was going to happen, would happen. And that it would unfurl in the way that it was meant to unfurl. Even if Auru was immune to the attention-seeking wind that Carlotta carried with her everywhere.

_Perhaps he just knows it too well..._

Slowly, Carlotta began shuffling toward the table. The closer she got, the harder Shad's heart began to pound. And the harder it was for him to keep his mouth shut. Even Ashei was jittery, sitting beside him, bouncing in her chair with her arms crossed. He had to admit, it was exciting. Finally uncovering a piece of Auru's past—he had always been so keen on keeping it hidden from them. Though he never made it seem like he was hiding anything, so they never truly thought to ask. But here she was, the very manifestation of his past, slowly walking toward him with her hunched back and sweet voice and silky shawl.

_Closer...closer...closer...here she is!_

"Excuse me, sir."

"Yes, may I help you?"

Auru finally looked up, made eye contact with Carlotta. Became as still as a statue while she smiled down at him.

"I'm looking for someone. Would you be able to help me?"

There was silence. Shad and Ashei sat in that silence, watching with wide eyes and bated breath. Then, Auru pushed back his chair and stood up to face her. He was at least a foot taller, his posture straighter, but it seemed as if they were so similar for a moment. Shad could see it. Finally, as the tense silence finally came to its anticipated end, Auru smiled.

"Carlotta," he breathed, "Carlotta, is that you?"

"So you do remember," she said. "That's a wondrous relief."

He laughed a little bit, put his hands on her arms.

"How could I forget? My, darling, you haven't changed at all!"

"Yes. You've gotten a bit old, though," she said. He laughed again.

"I suppose you're right, I have."

"But your eyes haven't changed," she smiled. "Not one bit."

"Things like that tend to stay the same."

There was silence again, but it was a different silence. Nice silence that Shad didn't mind sitting in.

"Please, Carlotta, sit! We have an empty seat today, as it turns out."

"I understand one of your members is sick," she replied.

"Yes, poor child, completely bed-ridden, as it were."

"Hmm. Poor child indeed."

"Ah, where are my manners. This Shad, and this is Ashei."

"Oh, we've met," Carlotta said.

Shad looked at Ashei desperately, and Ashei looked at Shad desperately.

_Our cover has been completely blown. Without grace, too._

"Y-you know each other?" Auru asked.

"Yes! I also know...ah, why do I always forget his name...?"

"Link?"

"That's it. Link. Nayru curse this old brain of mine."

"How on earth do you know them?" he gaped.

"They were sitting at a nice table in the café yesterday and I wanted to sit with them. What a lovely conversation we had. My acquaintance with Link goes a little further back than that, of course," she replied.

_I daresay, these past couple of days could not get any stranger,_ Shad thought in exasperation.

"They didn't..." Auru's voice trailed off for a moment. He looked terribly confused, and it almost made Shad feel a bit guilty. "They didn't tell you I was here, did they?"

"Of course they did! How else would I know?"

Auru paused in the conversation, looked first at Shad, then at Ashei. His eyes narrowed like a father suspicious of his children of misbehaving. And they, in turn, shrunk back, like two children fearing the inevitable punishment of their suspicious father.

"You set this up," he accused.

"We—" Shad began.

"We thought you'd enjoy seeing her again!" Ashei said. Shad could see her consciously turning on her charm. He wasn't sure about Auru, but it had him convinced every time. "You two seem to have quite the history, yeah?"

"I..."

Auru really couldn't argue with that, Shad could see.

"You are glad to see me, aren't you? After so many years?" Carlotta asked. As she did, Auru turned back to her, smiled again, and pushed his soup toward her.

"Of course I am. It's been too long."

"We have so much catching up to do. Did you ever finish your research of that desert?"

"Well, you know how it is. Research can never be 'finished,' per se. But I have gotten significantly further. A-and what about you? Opened that shop you always talked about?"

"Yes. Yes I did. Still open now, actually. Not a lot of business though."

And then, the two of them fell into deep, deep conversation. Always looking right into each other's eyes, the soup left untouched between them. Shad and Ashei could say nothing, could do nothing, could only watch with lingering smiles on their faces as the two disappeared into the past. Beneath the table, Ashei reached over and grabbed Shad's hand, squeezed, reminded him for a moment that she was there. For some reason, and for the very first time, Shad gazed at her and felt the strange urge to kiss her. Right then and there, in front of everyone. But he didn't.

In his opinion, though, just thinking it was enough.

* * *

Tempest was still sitting, hugging his knees, watching her as she paced and smoked and paced and smoked. Trying in vain to calm her nerves even a little bit.

"Your sister?" he said.

"Yes."

"Nia. She was your sister?"

"Goddammit, Tempest, how many times are you going to repeat it?"

"I used to visit her dreams all the time."

"I know. She told me about you."

"What did she say?"

Tara wanted to slap him. How dare he ask her that question?

"That you were driving her crazy," she glowered.

He simply shrugged, hugged himself more tightly.

"That's what most people say."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"You know, I remember every single person I see. Their dreams are always different—the same, but different. I remember her so well."

"At least someone does."

"I bet you do," he said.

She stopped, looked at him for a few moments to see the expression on his face, and then kept walking. This was not the way she wanted to have this conversation, but he seemed determined. And someway, somehow, it was hard for her to turn him away. With those eyes and that smile and the way he looked at her. Like she was some kind of divine creature. She didn't like it.

"I have to try," she finally replied. "I have to try really hard to remember."

"Why's that?"

Tara shrugged and thought about the answer because, in all honesty, she hadn't thought one up before.

"Because it's easier to forget, I think. Less painful."

"Can I ask you about her?"

"I wasn't aware we were now asking permission to pry into personal lives," she said bitterly. "How kind of you."

"Why is she dead?"

The question she had been anticipating. The question she had been avoiding. The question she still didn't want to answer because she struggled with it every day.

_Why is she dead_

_ Why is she dead_

_ She shouldn't be dead_

_ But she is dead_

_ So why is she dead_

"I don't know," she sighed. There was a burden settling itself on her shoulders, pushing her down, threatening to make her crumble.

"There has to be a reason."

"You can go ask her," Tara hissed, "because I don't know."

"How did she die?"

Tara was shaking all over. She couldn't even smoke because her fingers were trembling too much. She was now standing in the center of the room, glaring at Tempest over her shoulder. Closing her eyes, squeezing them as tightly as she could, opening them again and letting herself feel dizzy. Too many memories were rushing back.

Nights that she would lay awake, unable to sleep because of her sister's screaming. Days that would roll around, during which her sister would painfully describe the dream she kept having with the lake of fire. Over and over again. The tears she shed in her sister's arms, and the tears her sister shed in her arms. And then when it was all over, and Tara was left to cry alone in nobody's arms but her own.

_ Why is she dead_

_ Why is she dead_

_ She shouldn't be dead_

_ But she is dead_

_ So why is she dead_

Without warning, Tempest stood up and began walking toward her. She turned to face him, fully intending to tell him to leave her alone. But she couldn't actually say it. She couldn't say anything. She could only watch as he came closer, closer, looking more like an angel with every step. But she kept telling herself that he wasn't an angel. In fact, he was more like a devil. But then, she saw something so unbelievable in his eyes.

There were tears.

"You look so sad," he said. "I wish you wouldn't look so sad."

Just like he had before, he reached down and grabbed her hand. He kissed it, electrified her skin, made her flinch. But Tara was too bewildered to respond or react.

_He's not supposed to be human, not supposed to care..._

_ Why is he crying?_

The tears running down his cheeks were so pure. The tears of a child, innocent and happy and sad all at once.

"Why are you sad?"

She had no choice but to be honest with him and be honest with herself. Maybe it was something in his touch, something in the slight trembling of her hand in his.

"Because she's dead."

"How did she die? I'd like to know," he whispered.

This time, Tara answered. Because she needed to hear herself say it.

"She stabbed herself."

At that moment, she heard a rush of wind. And before she could comprehend what was happening, she heard screaming, glanced upward, and saw Link falling toward her—much too quickly. He landed, ungraciously and surprisingly heavily, right on top of her. Together they fell to the floor, he sprawled on top of her as she struggled to catch her breath and wrap her mind around what had just happened.

"Ow..." he groaned.

"_GODDAMMIT, LINK! GET OFF!"_

"Oh, I had lost track of time. Guess your two hours are up," Tempest said. Then, ignoring their angry glares, he smiled. "Welcome back! Ready to try again?"


	23. From Noble to Tutor

**Welcome to Chapter 23! Lots of dialogue and not a lot of action, but I like to think of it as a little break. Because there is a lot to come! **

**It's exciting. **

**-descends into writer's cave-**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three: From Noble to Tutor

Link couldn't stop trembling. After he had managed to scramble off of Tara and reorient himself, look around and realize that he was back in the temple, he had begun shaking. Beside him, she groaned and sat up and dusted herself off while Tempest stood over them with his perpetually childish grin. Link took off his hat and ran his fingers, anxiously, through his dirty blond tangles. He didn't say a word. Simply sat and worked out the tangles in his hair. The shock was still fresh beneath his skin, making every inch tingle. It was the first time in over one year that he truly remembered her face, truly remembered her voice, truly remembered her touch. It was a lot to take in. A lot.

"You look pale," Tara said. "As white as paper."

"I feel terrible," he finally croaked.

"Do you wanna tell us what happened? You know, before you nearly broke my neck."

He nodded silently while she abruptly stuffed a piece of chocolate in his mouth and handed him her smoking pipe.

"Take your time," she said.

He chewed the chocolate slowly to relish the taste of it, and then smoked in deeply. It was strange how filling one's lungs with smoke could make one feel so much more pure. Ironic, he thought. He looked up at Tara as she started pacing again, biting her nails. She didn't have chocolate or a pipe, after all, so he figured it was all she could do to keep herself sane at that point. Every few moments she would glance down at him, hesitate in her movements, then look away and keep walking. There was something strangely protective about her now. Almost motherly. Link wasn't as intimidated by her anymore. Wasn't as frightened.

In fact, it almost frightened him that he wasn't frightened.

Tempest's eyes moved steadily from Link, to Tara, and back to Link. He had his hands clasped behind his back and his expression was like stone again—no emotion whatsoever in his eyes, his mouth, any feature of his face. Only shadows and silence and eyes boring through their very souls. Now Tempest...Tempest, Link was afraid of.

Finally, Link spoke.

"Everything you said worked," he began.

"Of course."

"I went back to the exact day, the exact time—"

"The exact place?" she interrupted, raising her eyebrows.

He nodded, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"The exact place."

"Damn. You got it on the first try?"

"I'm a fast learner. Ask anyone."

"All right, whatever. Where did you go?"

"Hyrule Castle."

"Where you...?"

"Just visited her," he forced. "I knew she would be in the library, so I went to see her."

Tara stopped pacing and looked at him. He couldn't tell what the look on her face was. Sympathy, pity, indifference, sadness. He liked to think it was sympathy, but he really couldn't tell.

"How was it?" she said.

"It was strange. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I saw her, in the flesh. She was right there in front of me, and when I reached out, I could touch her. I could really feel her, really hear her."

"How nice..."

"It was before she fell in love with me," he croaked, "so it was hard. But I can't complain—I can't. Just being there with her was wonderful, amazing...I don't think I have the right words for it."

"I don't think so, either," she sighed.

She looked over at Tempest, as if expecting him to say something. Or, if not that, as if sharing a silent conversation with him. Looking at him to acknowledge some kind of secret they had together. Tempest was staring right back at her, chin tilted upward, bare chest rising and fall with his breathing. The way they were looking at each made his skin crawl. He smoked in from Tara's pipe once more.

"Tempest," he called. Tempest finally turned away from Tara and looked down at Link.

"Yes?"

"Don't forget the rules of our game. You promised to give me a hint after each journey."

"I'm surprised you're even sensible enough to remember the rules," he smirked. "You handle trauma rather well for a human."

His words, as cold and as sharp as a knife, made Link shrink back into himself. They made his head ring, made his eyes blur with visions, memories, of everything that should have made him mute. Zelda dying in his arms...appearing again his dreams...looking at him once again as he travelled through time...Tempest was right, after all. He should have been too traumatized to even think sensibly.

"Well, regardless, I always keep my word. I'll give you your hint," Tempest sighed. "You're far off from the mark."

"How far?"

"Ah, I can't tell you that. You'll have to try again for another clue."

Link couldn't help but feel that Tempest was enjoying his own cruelty too much. Basking in it, with that smile on his face that was anything but childish. When Link glanced over at Tara, she was hugging herself and rubbing her arms, and was pacing again. It looked to him as if she were mumbling something under her breath, but he couldn't quite tell what it was. She seemed even more traumatized than him.

"You can try again whenever you'd like. My pocket watch is at your leisure for the next 70 hours."

Thanking him didn't quite seem appropriate, so Link kept his mouth shut.

"What happened after the two hours were up?" Tara suddenly asked, straightening up.

The memory made Link shudder.

"Everything began rumbling, as if there were an earthquake. And then the ground cracked open beneath me, drawing me in. I fell right through the earth, into a black abyss..."

"And it brought you back here," she mused. "It drops you right back into the center."

"I suppose."

"Maybe we oughta put pillows or something for next time," she smiled dryly.

He couldn't help but laugh at that. He was willing to laugh at anything. He couldn't remember the last time he heard his own laugh.

"I'm not really sure where to go from here," he admitted. "The clues we have are so vague."

"I have an idea—"

"As always."

"Well, after all, it's the job of a scientist to always have a plan," she said, whisking her pipe from his lips and back into her own. "You just have to think rationally."

"Apparently a skill I lack."

"You travelled back to a time relatively close to the present. So if Tempest says that you're far off, we should try travelling to a time relatively far from the present."

"Sure, but how far?"

She paused to smoke in from the pipe and sneak a glance at Tempest, who was still watching her with that smile of his. And still making Link terribly uncomfortable. Then, she shrugged.

"An arbitrary number, really. It doesn't matter. You take your pick."

"All right...is 200 years about right?"

"Two-hundred years sounds perfect," she beamed. "Splendid, fascinating, perfect."

He reached his hand out like a child until she handed him her pipe and, with fidgety gestures, opened her notebook and began scribbling once again.

"How much time do you need before we leave?" Tempest asked.

"I'm ready whenever you are," Link said, blowing out the smoke.

"Well, I guess they don't call you Mr. Hero for nothing," she scoffed. "You bounce back fast. Take a breather, all right? Maybe a power nap, I don't know, do whatever. I'll set up the pocket watch and we can leave in an hour. Got it?"

"Got it," Tempest and Link said in unison.

"Good."

She flicked her hair over her shoulder and slammed her notebook shut. Link had never seen her look so happy, so satisfied.

"I'm finally travelling through time," she smiled. "I'm finally doing it."

With that, she turned on her heel and, with the pocket watch in hand, began her preparations as if Link and Tempest had simply disappeared. And they might as well have—Link decided to take her up on her suggestion and fell asleep within moments.

* * *

He didn't dream of Zelda—most likely because he didn't need to. He remembered her so perfectly after his journey. But he dreamt only of her voice. It was trembling, breaking, crying. He could almost hear her tears. Whiteness surrounded him as he stood on thin air, looking around desperately, looking for a face. Any face. But there was only the pure whiteness around him, blinding him. Making him want to close his eyes forever. She was crying for him to stop.

"You're throwing away my sacrifices," she was saying. "They're all in vain."

"I'm not, I'm not, I'm not," he screamed.

"Everything I did...it doesn't matter to you. Not at all."

"It does, it does!"

"I did it all for you. I did it because I loved you. I didn't want you see you suffer the same..."

"Please, Zelda—"

"And now you're making it meaningless!"

Her voice was loud, so raspy from the screams that he could hardly recognize it. The sound made his heart thump, thump, thump and then drop. Made his stomach churn, made his skin feel alien. He looked around in a futile attempt to find her, whirling around desperately with wide eyes.

"Stop it!" he cried. "Stop it, please!"

"I did it to save you!"

"And now it's eating me alive!"

He crumpled to his knees, for he couldn't hold himself up any longer. He hugged himself as tightly as he could, closed his eyes, and gritted his teeth until it hurt.

"I did it so that you wouldn't hurt," she said, her voice suddenly at a whisper.

"And now I hurt more than anything!" he cried. "You left me with such a heavy burden...you sacrificed everything, and I sacrificed nothing..."

"That's how I wanted it."

He could no longer speak, for agony had stolen his voice.

"Do you love me?" she asked.

To that invisible, faceless voice, he nodded. It was the only thing he could do.

"I can't tell anymore. If you loved me...wouldn't you accept my choices? Accept that I love you, too?"

Everything suddenly became black and he was completely lost, blind, didn't know where to go or where to look. So he closed his eyes and curled up until he couldn't even feel himself there, and until he could hear nothing but the echoing of her anguished weeping.

* * *

Shad asked Telma for another cup of soup in preparation for the long night ahead. Auru and Carlotta had been chatting for hours, and showed no sign of stopping. But Ashei and Shad didn't want to leave. The stories were magnetic, enlightening, and entertaining, keeping them practically glued to their seats. Beneath the obscuring surface of the table, Ashei had begun stroking his thigh. Above the table, she sneaked him mischievous smiles, batted her eyelashes, made the red come rushing to his cheeks. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but he couldn't convince himself that the time was appropriate.

First, Auru and Carlotta had told each other about their lives for the past decade—for it had been at least a decade since they'd last spoken.

"You've done quite a lot," Carlotta beamed. "A Resistance, eh? Really changed Hyrule. Like you always said you would."

"I've done as much as I can, certainly," he smiled.

"Your research is fascinating." Here, she looked over at the two younger, flabbergasted people sitting across the table. "I've always known old Auru here was interested in the desert. I could never get him to shut up about it! What is your research, then?"

"My father was interested in beings of the sky," Shad jumped. He hadn't spoken to someone about this in ages, and it always made his heart swell with pride and joy. "That's my area of expertise. Although, to be quite honest with myself, I'm rather well-versed in all of Hyrule's history. But the sky happens to be the area in which I'm most interested."

"The sky. How wonderful. And you, darling?"

"My father raised me in the mountains, yeah? So that's my area of research," Ashei nodded.

"Absolutely fascinating!" she gushed. "You'll both have to tell me all about your findings one day."

"Of course," they replied in unison.

"Hey, Auru," Ashei began. "I don't think we ever got this answer out of you. Why are you so interested in the desert anyhow?"

"Very true, very true," Shad interjected. "I suppose Ashei and I have our reasons for our respective areas of interest. Do you have some sort of connection with the desert?"

He turned and saw Carlotta lean back in her chair, shawl in hand. And then he noticed something that he was surprised he had not noticed before. His gaze fell upon Auru's chest, and he saw the same exact symbol that was there on Carlotta's shawl. The symbol of the Royal Family, in the same fashion. He cursed himself for being so oblivious.

"It's quite a long story," Auru sighed.

Even Shad, the socially awkward person that he was, could tell that Auru was avoiding the subject.

"We have a lot of time! Come on, tell us! We already told you, so it's only fair, yeah?" Ashei said.

"If you don't tell them I surely can, you old coot," Carlotta teased.

With the hints of a smile on his lips, Auru glanced over at the old woman at his side. The way Shad saw it, they were like two children sneaking around, telling secrets, with their own hideout and their own secret code and their own secret handshake. It made him feel strangely happy for Auru, for this man who had done so much for both of them.

"All right, all right. I'll tell them."

"Yay!" Shad and Ashei said.

Then they looked at each other with wide, embarrassed eyes, and shrunk back into their seats. Shad himself had never felt so like a child.

"I'll start from the beginning. I was born into a very noble family about 70 years ago—"

"You're seventy? Geez," Ashei laughed. Auru paused, glared at her jokingly, and continued.

"As I was saying, I was born into a very noble family. Close with the Royal Family, yes, but not in their inner circle. We were rich beyond belief. But the life bored me, you see. The etiquette and the money. I wanted adventure. But, of course, for adventure one needs knowledge. My parents, like all other noble families of the time, had hired a tutor for me. That was fine, I suppose, but I felt myself limited only to the knowledge that circulated among the nobles. I wanted to know everything about everything—an impossible feat, I admit, but that was what I wanted. What I still want, really."

"Oh my, was little baby Auru a rebel?" Ashei gushed.

"Of sorts," he grinned. "I told my parents I wanted to study outside of the city. Travel and learn. Understandably, they were not happy about it. But they couldn't stop me. Nor did they try very hard. I think they'd known since I was young that it was going to happen. When I was eighteen—around Link's age when he first set out, actually—I left my home here in Castle Town to travel and learn. I already knew all there was to know in this place."

"What did you do?" Shad asked. This story was so close to home for him.

"Well, I did just that. I travelled and I learned. I met knew people, learned what I could from them, moved to the next place. I've travelled all over Hyrule and more."

"The mountains?" Ashei asked.

"Yes, I've been to the mountains," he grinned. "Everywhere, really. But the one place I could never visit was the desert. It irritated me so. It seemed interesting, distant. I wanted to know what was there and why I couldn't reach it. So I began searching for answers. And I suppose, on the way, my name became known throughout Hyrule."

"A household name, as it were," Carlotta chuckled. "Everyone anywhere knew who Auru the explorer was."

"Yes, well, I suppose I can't argue," he shrugged. "As it happened, when I turned twenty-two, after years of travelling, the King asked to meet with me. I couldn't refuse, now, could I?"

"Fascinating," Shad breathed.

"Exciting!" Ashei cried.

"He asked me to stay as a scholar and advisor within the castle. This was before the days of the council, as I'm sure you know. I wanted to continue my travels, but at that point, I decided that I might as well stay for a while in the castle and get my feet wet there. It's always good to have friends in high places." He paused, winked, and continued. "But all the while, I could not stop thinking about that mysterious desert. I stayed in the castle for ten years. And I became close to the king and the people within the castle's inner circles. Including the sages."

"The sages?" Ashei questioned.

"The six sages," Shad replied. "Age-old protectors of Hyrule. Though their actual existence has been put into question. They've kept themselves hidden rather well."

"And at that point, they had been hiding themselves within the castle walls, for their services were not needed at that point. They had tutored the king himself, you know. They were six very, very old men. Ancient, almost. Anyway, I grew close to them. They helped fill in some of the holes for me regarding the desert."

"What holes?" Shad pressed.

"Most importantly, that in the desert was a prison. A prison that held only the most vile criminals, sent there to await exile or death. Only, mind you, the very, very worst of criminals. The sages told me all about it and its functions, but that was not enough, I suppose. I wanted to be able to reach it."

"Did you? Did you?" Shad and Ashei were bouncing on their seats at that point.

"Well, like I said, I stayed in the castle for ten years. Then, when I was thirty-two, I decided to voyage into the desert. The road was treacherous—not as treacherous as it is now, of course. I made it, but...I never made it to the prison. The desert itself was too dangerous. That has always eaten away at me."

"What did you do after that?"

"I tried travelling through the desert for four years. Can you imagine? Four years. But then I returned to the castle and remained for the next fifteen."

"So if my calculations are correct," Shad cried, "Princess Zelda was about two years old when you finally left the castle for good."

"Yes, that's right. For the final two years that I spent in the castle, I was Princess Zelda's tutor, since the sages had left by that point. To where, I can't say I know."

"Why did you leave the castle?" Ashei asked.

Auru sighed, looked up at the ceiling, held the remains of a sad smile on his face.

"I felt too sad there. Too cooped up. I began travelling again. Making new friends, seeing old friends. Although I did spend much of my time staring off after that desert..."

"Until five years ago," Shad smiled. Auru smiled back.

"Until five years ago. When I decided to start the Resistance."

"Why didn't you ever go back to the castle?" Ashei seemed intent.

"My dear, after thirteen years away from the castle, my name had been forgotten there. There was no going back for me," he said. "But I wanted to help in my own way. That's why I started the Resistance."

* * *

**I always feel like the games could do so much more with Auru, Shad, and Ashei. Such underrated characters that have SO MUCH POTENTIAL. But since Nintendo isn't doing it...I am. **

**#backstory #teamresistance #swag**


	24. Excuse Me, Mister

**Chapter 24 :) **

**I'm not sure if any of you have noticed, but as my FanFiction career progresses, I become less and less intrigued by canon. **

**Making stuff up is so much more fun. **

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four: Excuse Me, Mister

"Link. Link, wake up. It's been an hour. Do you want to try travelling again?"

For what seemed like the millionth time, Link opened his eyes to Tara's face hovering above him, hair falling over her shoulder and violet eyes shimmering. But this time, Tempest's face right there beside hers. They were both smiling—very different smiles. Hers was confident, excited, determined. His was more amused, distracted, even a bit cruel. The picture of them standing like that together made him even more nervous than the situation already did; he still had no idea what their connection was. Only that they had a connection. He could not forget about Tara's reaction when she had first seen him, and the terrifying scream that had erupted from her mouth at the mere sight of him.

"What?"

"You're not awake yet, are you?" she sighed. "Come on, pretty boy, time for another adventure! Wakey wakey!"

"Oh...oh! Right."

Still groggy and trying to get Zelda's voice out of his head, he sat up and put on his hat. He was in the temple, had fallen asleep, had less than three days left to figure out Tempest's puzzle. With nothing but a green pocket watch, a strange guardian sent from the heavens with a penchant for ruthlessness, and a mysterious chocolate-loving scholar.

"Did you sleep well?" Tempest asked.

As if he knew the answer. Link shrugged as he stood up, though it took all of his effort to keep from wincing at the images replaying in his head.

"Yeah, I slept fine."

"Good to hear, you'll need the rest. I set the pocket watch to today's date, 200 years in the past," Tara said.

She was swinging the pocket watch back and forth in her hands. It made Link strangely nervous.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"I was thinking we could just travel back to the temple. See what we can find. Back then, the Temple of Time was in the very center of the kingdom, you know. So travelling back here during that time will lead us right to the heart of Hyrule."

She handed him the pocket watch.

"Okay. That sounds fine to me, since I'm not really sure where we're going or what we're doing."

"Just follow my lead, okay? We'll travel back, get a taste for our surroundings, then decide the next steps."

Link nodded and strapped his sword and shield to his back, all the while feeling uncomfortable beneath Tempest's hollow gaze. Tara seemed more energetic than usual with the pocket watch in hand, moving to the center of the room as if she had been waiting her entire life to stand in that one particular spot. And, from what Link could gather, she essentially _had_ been waiting her entire life. But as he moved to stand beside her, he suddenly felt anxious. A horrible, heavy anxiety. He had no idea what was about to happen—in fact, he still had no idea who Tara was. Who Tempest was. How he had managed to find himself in this situation.

"Grab my hand," she said.

First she looked over at Link, a strange smile on her face. A smile that was excited and afraid all at once. Then she looked over at Tempest, who was standing on her other side. Feeling the tension in the room grow more prominent, Link bit back his questions (for the time being) and grabbed Tara's hand. As he continued vowing to himself that he would bring Zelda back, grasping at the ring around his neck, he also continued vowing to himself that he would figure out who Tara was. He would figure out her secrets, even if it took him another lifetime.

But for now, he decided, he would let her take him wherever she wanted. And he would deal with Tempest's presence, as uneasy as it made him.

As soon as they had both grabbed her hands, she looked back over at Link.

"You know what to do," she said. "Go ahead."

He recalled the feeling of first travelling back and became nervous, watching the pocket watch swing back and forth in front of him. He let it swing...let it swing...felt Tara's eyes on him...felt Tempest's eyes on him...felt the weight of the entire world on his shoulders...and then prepared to travel back 200 years.

"Time. Time is alive. Time is like a tempest."

The strange wind with claws came again, like it had before, and grabbed the back of his tunic. It dragged him, whisked him away. But this time, he felt Tara's hand in his and could feel her presence travelling with him—through her, he felt Tempest, as well. But Tempest's presence was strange. Almost nonexistent. As if he were the wind, as if he were riding on it, as if he were controlling it.

Their feet all touched the ground at the same moment. Link hadn't realized that he'd closed his eyes until he opened them and let them take in the light. Before he could even comprehend where he was, what was happening, he felt Tara squeeze his hand so tightly he almost yelped in pain. He glared over at her, ready to open his mouth and say something...

But he couldn't say anything when he saw her face.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks, perfectly and endlessly slipping from the corners of her wide eyes. The sunlight pouring in from the windows fell upon her frame, trembling and, he could see, hardly able to breathe. He squeezed her hand back, just to let her know that he was there. That she was there. That they had done it. When she felt him do that, she turned to face him with her teary eyes and open mouth. He had never in his life seen someone look so fulfilled, so relieved, so utterly and undeniably happy.

"We did it," she breathed. "It...it worked."

"Yeah," he smiled. "Yeah. And you figured it out yourself."

"I c-can't believe it."

Tempest had let go of her hand by that point and stepped forward, basking in the sunlight like a child who was experiencing it for the first time. They were still inside the Temple of Time, though it looked a bit different. The windows were still the same, large and extravagant, letting the sunlight pour through like water. They were still standing in the center of the room, just as Tara had predicted they would be. But Link could feel the difference. He felt ancient somehow, like an antique.

"I feel it," Tara whispered, as if reading his mind. "I can really feel it."

"It's heavy."

"Time isn't heavy," Tempest called back at them. There was an expectant glint his eyes, a beckon to join him in celebration. "Time is beautiful."

As if finally coming to her senses, Tara let go of Link's hand and began frantically wiping the tears from her eyes. She continued looking around, from corner to corner, situating herself, but trying so desperately to stop the tears from flowing. Link could only stand and watch, his fingers itching and his heart aching as it always did.

"It worked just like you said it would," he said.

She nodded, smiled, quietly at first. But when she opened her mouth, a laugh came out. Small, uncertain. But once it was out, once she heard it echoing through the room, she opened her mouth more widely and laughed more loudly. Soon she was twirling like a dancer, running and leaping and laughing as loudly as she possibly could. Even her tears seemed to be flying. Link saw Tempest watching her—the look of absolute joy on his face made Link nervous. He looked almost human. There was color in his face, a certain glimmer in his eyes that didn't seem demonic, didn't seem angelic. Just seemed...human.

Suddenly, Tara turned her face to the ceiling and screamed.

"Do you see me, sis? Do you see me? It's for _you!"_

Link wasn't sure how to react, so he didn't. He just stood with his fists clenched, telling himself that now was not the time. Now was not the time to sit her down and force out of her all the secrets she was hiding, secrets that were ultimately going to destroy her. Now was the time to let her bask in the glory of the temple she had spent all her life studying, bask in the knowledge that she had finally done what she had been trying to do. Forever.

"Let's go outside," she beamed. "Outside into Hyrule."

"Is it even Hyrule?" he asked.

"Of course it is, you bum, it's only 200 years."

Link followed as she made her way toward the entrance. And then, the strangest thing happened. As she walked by Tempest, who was leaning against the entrance with his all-too-human expression, she grabbed his hand and dragged him after her. Link furrowed his brow.

_She's holding his hand._

_ Why is she holding his hand?_

_ I really hate not knowing anything._

_ It's fine, calm down. You'll figure it out eventually?_

He found himself wishing more than anything for someone's hand to hold.

"Come on, slow poke!"

He rushed after them, through the brightly-lit entrance of the temple, preparing himself for whatever he was going to find outside. He wondered how much Hyrule had changed over the centuries, and was nervous about what he was about to find.

The first thing he noticed was that the sun seemed brighter in this era. In fact, everything seemed brighter. He blindly followed Tara and Tempest's silhouettes before him, raising his arm to cover his eyes from the light. Distracted and in awe, he nearly tripped on the step leading onto a neat, stone path from the mouth of the temple. His eyes adjusted to the light and he moved forward along the path, and felt himself connected to it in a way. Even though he had never seen this path before, never walked anything like it, he felt that he had already walked it a hundred times. On either side were flowers and bushes blooming, and odd stones with eyes on them surrounded by the greenery. When he directed his eyes, unknowingly teary, toward the sky, it was the bluest shade he had ever seen it.

Suddenly, as he kept walking, he found himself standing beside Tempest and Tara looking into a busy square. People were dancing, people were shopping in the nearby marketplace, people were enjoying themselves by the fountain and advertising their wares. They could even see houses, small apartments, circling the plaza. There was laundry out to dry, children playing in the alleyways with their dogs and cats, music playing. Link's jaw almost instantly dropped.

"You're kidding me," he breathed.

"No, this can't be," Tara laughed. "_This_ is Castle Town?"

"All the way over here? What?" Link stuttered. "That doesn't make sense."

"Things really do change with time," she sighed. "Welcome to Hyrule Castle Town, boys."

Still grasping Tempest's hand, she moved forward into the plaza, while Link was frozen in place.

"I've seen this all before," he whispered to himself. "I've seen this. Just like this."

He turned over his shoulder to look back at the temple, rising up in all of its glory. And there, in the distance, he saw the smoke of Death Mountain, black as night against the blue day sky. Shivers suddenly covered his entire body, and he felt himself in the completely wrong place and the completely right place all at the same time. Suddenly his head was aching and his limbs were tired and he could hardly stand to look at it all.

"I've seen it, but I've never seen it."

Finally, after he had regained control over his limbs, he forced himself to move forward into the plaza and into the crowd. The presence of life overcame him, made him close his eyes and breathe in as deeply as he could. It was so beautiful. All of it. He reached his arms out and soaked it all in, unmindful of the eyes watching this strange young man who had wandered into the plaza from the Temple of Time. He was like a shadow, a nameless face, simply passing through. Over by the fountain, he glanced over and saw Tempest and Tara, smiling and laughing as they danced like crazy people to the upbeat music. Link had to look twice, for he had never seen either of them looking like that. Purely happy, carefree, restless. She looked as if she were about to burst from pure happiness, her cheeks were bright red. She was gazing at Tempest as one would gaze at a friend, lost through the passage of time and finally found once more. It made Link's heart ache even more.

"Excuse me, mister, sorry—"

Just then, a small, boyish voice cut through his thoughts. He glanced down and saw a young child, who couldn't have been older than twelve years old, attempting to push past him. As Link stumbled backward to make a path for him, the child looked up at him with a grateful smile...

...And Link felt faint.

He saw his own face staring up at him.

The boy had chubby cheeks, rosy and full. His eyes were even brighter than the sky, and his hair fell in bright blond strands across his forehead. The smile on his face was the kind of smile that could light up an entire room, make everybody else smile with him. But the worst, the most jarring for Link, were the boy's clothes. He was wearing a bright green tunic and a pointed hat.

"Thanks, mister," he gushed. "I'm kind of in a hurry."

Within moments, the boy was gone, scurrying down the path that seemed to lead to the beautiful castle lying past the city gates. Still stumbling over his own thoughts, Link dragged himself to the fountain and sat down on its edge, holding his face in his hands.

_Did that really just happen?_

_ Who _was_ that boy?_

_It couldn't be..._

_ But it has to be!_

And then, against any of his better judgment, Link decided to follow the boy. The child, who reminded him so much of himself. The boy who he was sure was the Hero of Time.

_I'm in over my head..._

_ Time is much more frightening than I thought._

_ It really is a tempest._

* * *

"You missed one part of the story," Ashei pointed out.

"Hmm? And what's that?"

Auru took a sip of his tea and leaned back in his chair, stealing a glance at the old woman sitting beside him. At that sight, Shad instinctively looked over at Ashei, too. Instead of meeting his gaze, though, she reached under the table and squeezed his leg again, making the blood rush straight to his cheeks. Just by watching her eyes, the movement of her lips, the way she was leaning forward, he knew where she was going.

"You never told us how you met Carlotta!"

"The most important part of the whole story," Carlotta winked.

Shad and Ashei were leaning forward once more, their chins resting in their hands like children, awaiting the most exciting part of the story. Shad looked at Carlotta, examined the mischievous yet kind expression on her face. Then he looked to Auru, who was so obviously trying to hide his smile.

"You really want to hear that part?" he sighed.

"Yes!"

"My, you're like children," he laughed. Shad and Ashei could only smile more widely and nod their heads. "I suppose I should tell you."

"Don't pretend, old man," Carlotta chuckled. "You've been waiting ages to tell this story."

With just a raise of his eyebrows, Auru looked away and continued drinking his tea. Then, once he had slammed the mug back onto the table, as if it had been a mug of hard liquor, he began the story.

"I met Carlotta before I set off at eighteen. She was not a noble, not like I was. Her father was a travelling merchant and her mother was a shop-owner. They were not rich, but they were comfortable."

"A lot less comfortable than he was, of course," she interjected.

"Well I suppose I can't argue with you there," he conceded. "The point is that we walked in completely different circles. We had no idea that the other existed, really."

"I lived deep in Southern Castle Town, while Auru lived much closer to the castle on East Road," she said.

"That's right. But her mother's store was famous throughout the city for having the most beautiful items. It was a jewelry store, I believe. A top-of-the-line jewelry store. One day, my father asked me to go there and buy something nice for my mother—their anniversary was coming up, but my father couldn't find the time to go out to Southern Castle Town. So I went in his stead."

"Let me guess," Shad interrupted. "You walked in, you saw her standing there, and it was love at first sight."

Hiding their grins, Auru and Carlotta glanced at each other.

"That...wasn't exactly how it happened," he replied. "We didn't start off liking each other very much. I walked in and asked for the most beautiful necklace they had. Carlotta was working, you're correct there. She was seventeen at the time—am I right?"

"You are," she nodded. "Seventeen and beautiful."

"Yes, that's right," he laughed. "Wildly so. I remember thinking that about you. But in the process of her trying to sell me the necklace, I appeared to her arrogant. Each necklace she showed me I cast aside as unsatisfactory, which made her furious. She gave me quite the mouthful, if I recall!"

He paused to catch his breath after a fit of laughter, a lovely memory shared between two old souls that Shad and Ashei could only sit and admire.

"And then, as she yelled at me, her father walked into the store, returning from a business trip. It was like a breath of fresh air for everybody, it seemed. I remember that he looked so...exotic. Foreign. As if he had been all around the world and back every day since his birth. That's when I took interest."

"So you're saying you got close to Carlotta through her father?" Shad asked.

"That's right. After learning that her father was a travelling merchant, I asked him to meet me with me, tell me stories of his travels. He agreed to let me come twice a week, for he was going to be in town for about a month. I came every Tuesday and Friday to sit in the back of the store, listening to his stories and becoming more and more determined to leave home myself."

"And in the process, you fell in love with Carlotta, yeah?" Ashei grinned.

"The boy could never keep his eyes off me!" the old woman jeered. "But I was the one who instigated it, actually."

"Really?" they both smiled.

"Yes. After my conversations with her father, she would stop me at the door, offer me tea, all of the courtesies. We had little conversations of our own. So by the time her father left, I kept coming to the store."

"Just to see her?"

"Just to see her. Our conversations had become routine, habit, a highlight of my week. It began as twice a week...then four times a week...then nearly every day."

"Every day until you left," Carlotta added. "You came to the story every day for three months."

"Three months. Yes. And then I left for my own travels."

"But, wait," Ashei said. "Didn't you say that you left for four years before returning to the castle?"

"Yes," he sighed. "Four years. We sent each other letters for four years. It seemed that we fell more in love with the distance."

"That's so romantic!" Shad gushed. "So very romantic!"

"And there you have it," Carlotta said. "When I first snuck into the castle, to see him, it had been four years since I'd last laid eyes on him."

"Ah, I remember that!" Auru laughed. "You fell right over the gates into the garden. The guards found you within thirty seconds!"

They descended back into their memories, eyes glistening with nostalgia.


	25. Dancing in a Storm

**Before you go on to read this chapter, I think I need to clarify some things about the timeline for those who don't know about it. After Ocarina of Time, the games split into three timelines: **

**1) Adult Timeline: Ganondorf is defeated, Link is sent back into the past, and Hyrule prospers. Until Ganondorf breaks his seal and comes out and everything floods and there's nothing happy about that (except for Wind Waker YUS). **

**2) Child Timeline: Ganondorf is defeated, and Link is sent back into the past. But this timeline begins with his childhood, in which he and Zelda never let Ganondorf get the Triforce. So essentially, in this timeline, all of the events after Link meets Zelda never happen, because they stop Ganondorf before he gets cray Triforce power. This is the timeline to which Majora's Mask is a direct sequel.**

**3) Ganondorf defeats Link and everyone is sad.**

**Twilight Princess falls into the Child Timeline. So what this means is that the Hero's Shade is actually the spirit of a Link who never fights Ganondorf. **

**This chapter is based on this canon, so I just wanted to let you guys know and clarify. **

**Okay, you can read now. **

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five: Dancing in a Storm

Tara was on top of the world. She tried to find some sort of analogy for this feeling, some sort of comparison...but there simply wasn't one. This was unlike anything she had ever experienced and unlike anything she would ever experience again, she knew. For at that moment, she was dancing in the plaza of a Hyrule Castle Town two hundred years before her time, watching the blue sky and in the arms of someone who made her feel warm. That was the best—the only—way to describe how she felt around Tempest. He made her feel warm.

Laughing and smiling and dancing (though she was a terrible dancer and she knew it), she thought back to when she had first laid eyes on him. She recalled the blood draining from her face, her mind losing its ability to think coherent thoughts, the terrible images and memories flashing behind her eyes. She recalled thinking to herself that she was going to hate him. She was going to hate him more than anything for what he had done to her sister...

But here she was, unable to hold herself back even from holding his hand.

She had expected him to be a demon when she had seen his shadowy face, his green eyes, his hair like fire. She had expected him to make her blood boil, make it easy for her to hate him. And yet she couldn't do it. Something, like fire to moths, was drawing her closer. A magnet, if she were thinking scientifically. Something so oppositely charged, something she should have been repelled from, something so different, drawing her inevitably toward it. Ever since he had first grabbed her hand and pressed his lips against it, she had felt something dramatic. Something she couldn't define. His touch, it seemed, had sparked a fire deep within her, so fierce she couldn't ignore it. And it wasn't like Tara to give in—in fact, she was trying as hard as she possibly could to keep herself away. Remind herself of the things he had done, the things he had taken from her. He wasn't human, she told herself. He wasn't even a monster. He was simply...Tempest.

_It wasn't his fault, though, was it?_ she thought to herself.

_It wasn't his fault what happened to Nia. _

_ It wasn't anybody's fault. It wasn't. _

There was a war raging inside of her as she danced with him, unable to stop herself. Unable to keep herself from gripping his hands as tightly as possible.

"This is fun," he said to her as they twirled. "Like flying."

"And how do _you_ know what flying feels like?" she said with a smile.

Tempest thought for a moment, the corners of his mouth turning downward with the effort. He looked up at the sky, as if for divine inspiration, before finally looking back down at her and shrugging without a word. When Tara looked at him for long enough, it was like he ceased to exist. Like he was just an image standing before her, capable of being blown away by the faintest breeze. Like a mirage. Then, her hands moving of their own accord, she reached up and grazed his cheek with the tips of her fingers. He was so warm. Not hot like fire, but warm, like the remaining ashes of a fire. They stopped moving, there in the center of the plaza—Tara unaware of herself, and Tempest watching her with the softest smile she had ever seen.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Just making sure you're actually here, actually here in front of me."

"Where else would I be?"

Tara opened her mouth to tell him that he might be in her dreams—in Link's dreams—in Nia's dreams.

"Not here," she ultimately said.

His smile grew wider, wider, wider, until it transformed into that beautiful, innocent laugh that she couldn't bring herself to believe was actually his. But something had changed in him since they'd first met. He was no longer like the child. In fact, she hadn't seen the childlike side of him for hours. He suddenly was too real, too young, too dangerously dark. It seemed like, for the first time, he was human. Acted human. Spoke like a human. It frightened her more and more, but at the same time, made her entire being soar with a strange sensation.

Tara began to lower her hand. But then, like a reflex, Tempest's own hand shot up and pressed her fingers against his cheek once more. And she could have sworn she saw a flash of fear in his eyes.

"No, don't move it," he whispered. "It feels nice."

She didn't know what to feel or how to deal with it. So she just stood and held her palm against his cheek as he asked her to. At that moment, she wanted more than anything to just have a smoke. She cursed herself for having left her bag in the present, for there was nothing more frustrating than not being able to have a good smoke when she desperately needed one.

"You don't want to dance anymore?" she asked.

"I just want to look at you for a little bit," he replied.

The answer caught her so off-guard that she couldn't even respond. She couldn't understand his infatuation with her. Why, ever since he had first laid eyes on her, he had been looking at her in such an enamored way. Why he said nice things to her, why he kissed her hand when she was frightened, why he brushed her hair more smoothly than anyone ever had before.

It had been so long since Tara truly felt as if someone cared about her like that.

_Maybe that's why I'm having such a hard time with it._

"Why?" she asked.

Then he looked as if _she_ had caught him off-guard, as well. He looked up at the sky in thought, was silent for what seemed like an eternity. And then, finally, he smiled and gazed back at her.

"I'm not sure," he said. "Looking at you makes me feel something inside my chest. It's a nice feeling. Warm."

"What do you usually feel in there?"

"Nothing."

He took her hand and moved it from his cheek to his chest, and pressed it there. Tara closed her eyes and felt for his heartbeat...

And heard nothing.

"See?" he whispered. "Nothing."

"Can I ask you something, Tempest?"

He nodded. Tara opened her mouth, tasting the bitterness of the words that had been sitting on her lips ever since she saw him.

"Did you feel anything when you went into my sister's dreams?"

Tempest did that same movement of looking up to the sky, and gripped her hand more tightly. Then he spoke.

"I felt heavy. I felt...sad."

"What about Link's dreams?"

"Scared."

"You felt scared? Why?"

"Because he felt scared."

"Does that mean you felt sad because Nia felt sad?"

Tempest closed his eyes and slowly, the blood dripping silently and lightly from the countless scratches on his hands, brought her hand to his lips. The touch was like a shock that ran mercilessly through her body, almost made her stumble backward.

"Yes."

Then, without another word, he placed his other hand on her waist and began to dance again, perfectly in time with the beat of the music. Tara, holding back her tears and overly aware of her heartbeat, let him lead her through the motions. All the while wondering how she could stand the sight of him—how she could bear the thought of him—how she could want to be so close to him—how she could want to feel his touch—all at the same time.

* * *

With Link's pace relative to the young boy's, he had to walk significantly more slowly to stay a reasonable distance behind. He didn't want the boy turning around and seeing him, for that could not end well. So Link kept his distance. The boy walked with an energetic spring in his step, a combination of raw youth and apparent excitement. Watching him, bouncing and jogging and whistling a little tune, made Link smile. He looked so innocent. And when he turned his face, that contagious smile was still on his mouth, still making the environment around him brighter. Link couldn't look at him and see a budding hero, and he definitely couldn't look at him and see his own ancestor. The tall, looming, armored shade that had taught him the skills he had used to survive. He could only look at him and see a young boy basking in the sun and enjoying his life.

Link followed the boy (who he assumed was his namesake, also named Link), down a path leading away from the town and toward the castle, into a large field. Surrounding the dirt path was grass, and on Link's right, a high dirt wall. He continued following, but stayed close to the wall, in case he had to hide. As they turned the corner, though, Link saw a stone gate. And standing there with spears, staring out into oblivion, were four guards. As Link stopped in his tracks, he noticed that the boy did not do the same. He kept running. Link opened his mouth to scream, tell him to stop...

But instead, he watched as the guards saw the boy, blew their whistles, grabbed him by his little slender arms as he kicked and struggled. Then, with smug expressions, the guards threw him to the ground.

"Stay out, kid!" they cried.

And then they were back at their posts. Link stayed pressed against the wall, watching the scene unfurl from behind the corner. The boy, his lips puckered in frustration, stood up and began dusting off his bright green tunic. He turned to look over his shoulder at the guards, and then he looked down at his fidgety fingers.

"Now what?" he sighed. "I have to get into the castle somehow."

The boy put his hands on his hips and began looking around, obviously aware at this point that he would not be getting through the easy way. Suddenly, his gaze moved toward the very wall against which Link was standing, and he was only able to hide himself in the nick of time. And when he heard soft, excited footsteps, Link ran back the way he came. While he made himself unnoticeable—something at which he had become rather adept during his travels—the boy made his way toward the wall and stared at it wordlessly for a few moments.

Like a monkey, the boy began climbing. He grabbed at the rocks, created temporary footholds, clambered up, up, up. Link's smile grew wider as the boy climbed higher until, finally, he emerged at the top. While the young boy crept along, Link climbed up the wall as well—admittedly more gracefully. He was up much more quickly, and found himself in a large field of grass. The boy was sneaking forward, now graceful with his avoidance of the guards. So, still amused and intrigued and charmed by this boy, Link just kept following.

Followed him around the guards, into the courtyard of the castle. Through the labyrinth of its gardens, the unwatchful eyes of its guards, toward a destination that Link could only imagine. At times, Link was jealous of the boy's small stature. He had a much easier time of hiding than Link did. In fact, a few guards caught a glimpse of Link, and he was forced to knock them unconscious before they could reveal him. It was unpleasant, he had to admit. But at the same time, it was amazing to feel the rush of adrenaline that had been missing in his life since defeating Ganondorf and the Source. And the entire time, the boy was silent, stealthy, small.

Link hated to even think of it, for it made him anxious, but the boy reminded him of himself. He recalled the times when he was small, running through Ordon Village, causing mischief. They could have been the same. And, in fact, they practically were.

Finally, Link followed the boy through a large, shadowy archway into an unguarded alcove. But as the boy ran in, panting and energetic, Link stayed behind in the shadows to watch unseen. When he looked at the courtyard, expanding outside the window the castle's throne room, he felt that he had been there before. Flowers of all colors bloomed, beautiful light stretched out from the stained glass windows, everything was bright. And there, by the window, was a little girl. She was wearing a pink dress and a bonnet on her head, and was standing on her tiptoes to see through the window. Seeing her there made Link catch his breath and hold it. Hold it for what seemed like forever.

Without hesitation, the boy ran toward her. He was nearly tripping on his own feet, his arms flailing in the way that only a little boy's could. The boy ran up to where the girl was standing and, while he caught his breath, opened his mouth.

"Princess Zelda!"

Link pressed his back against the wall and leaned his head against it, feeling suddenly dizzy and nauseated. He tried to grasp for something to steady himself, but there was nothing there. So he stood there shaking, trying to keep his posture. He knew now that his suspicions were true. He knew that the boy was the Hero of Time, and that this girl was a young ancestor of Zelda. _His_ Zelda.

"You..." the girl said with a smile. "I know you. I've seen you in my dreams. So you _must_ be the one. But...how did you get past the guards?"

"That was easy, Princess. A piece of cake!" the boy said.

Princess Zelda laughed, and the sound was like poison in Link's ears. Too familiar. Too haunting.

"I'm sorry, I never properly introduced myself. I am Zelda, Princess of Hyrule. And you?"

"Link. Link is my name."

As the boy finally said that name out loud, Link slid to the ground and grasped his head in his hands once more.

_Time...is head-splitting. _

"Link. That sounds familiar somehow," the girl replied. "Can I tell you a secret, Link?"

"Yes."

"Look through that window there. Do you see that man?"

"Mhmm."

"His name is Ganondorf. He hails from a desert far to the west."

Link began shaking his head, trying to get the names and the images out. It was becoming too overwhelming—much more overwhelming than he expected. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it. But when he tried to move, to leave, he found himself frozen in place.

"I see evil in his eyes," she continued.

"Me, too."

"Really? I...I see dark clouds in my dreams. And I think they symbolize him. But my father, he won't listen to me."

"I believe you, Princess."

"R-really? You do?"

"Of course."

"That's...thank you, Link. Does that mean you'll help me?"

"It sure does."

When Link tuned back into the conversation, he noticed something strange in the boy's voice. He sounded scared. Terrified, actually. As if this was something he had all seen before, like a nightmare that was coming into reality. And Link could relate to that feeling all too well.

Suddenly, two strong, sturdy hands grabbed his arms and lifted him up to his feet. His eyes shot open and he was face to face with a woman whose hair was white and whose eyes were the brightest red he had ever seen. She had odd, traditional makeup on her face with patterns that he had never seen. Her bones were big, her grip was so tight it made him clench his teeth in pain, but somehow, her eyes were soft.

"You need to leave," she whispered. Her voice was gruff and dramatic, like a voice one would imagine in a leader. "You need to leave right now."

Link could not say a word. He could only stand, looking into her eyes, but watching the world spin while she tightened her grip on his bruising arms.

"Can you hear me, boy? Go! Now! Before they see you!"

She let go of him and began pushing him away from the courtyard, back into the castle gardens. Link resisted, mostly out of pure confusion.

"W-wait, who are you?" he asked.

"That doesn't matter. What matters, child, is that you are here when you shouldn't be. Go, and don't turn back. Just run."

"Do you know who _I_ am? H-how?" he stuttered.

With one last push, she sent him stumbling from the stone path into the garden. She looked at him silently for a few moments, put her hands on her hips and shook her head slightly.

"I look into your eyes, child, and I know who you are," she said. Her words frightened him more than anything he had seen or heard. "Now go."

Just as he was turning to obey this mysterious, white-haired woman, the world began to shake. Just like it had the first time. He fell to his knees from the shaking, and as his palms pressed against the green earth, the chasm opened once more. With a scream just as loud, just as chilling as the last, he fell through the abyss, through the labyrinth of time, back to the present.

Although he was having trouble distinguishing past, present, and future in his mind. At that point, for him, it didn't matter which was which.


	26. Shad's Sweetheart

**So regarding the last chapter, one of my lovely reviewers, inlesweets, pointed out a mistake I may have made when explaining the timelines. A little thing, but import, nonetheless. You can read the review and do what you will with it.**

**As for this chapter, it has A LOT of dialogue. But I enjoyed writing it. Hope you enjoy reading it, too.**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six: Shad's Sweetheart

The second time was more painful than the first, because Link landed on the floor instead of on top of Tara. For the few painful moments that followed his fall into the abyss, he simply lay on the floor of the Temple of Time staring at the spinning ceiling, waiting for the stinging to subside. After a few seconds, he heard groaning beside him, then looked over and saw Tara. She was curled up, her face scrunched and her eyes closed, holding her stomach.

"Taralisse...?"

"_Shit_, that hurt," she grumbled. "We really should put those pillows here."

"Or learn to fall gracefully."

"Good luck getting me to do anything gracefully."

Still reeling from what he'd seen, what he'd heard, Link propped himself up and leaned his elbows on his knees. Tara stayed curled up and soon, Link noticed that Tempest was nowhere in sight.

"Where's Tempest?" he asked.

"He disappeared when the two hours were up," she replied. "One minute he was there, the next, gone."

"Huh."

"What, you really thought he'd fall through his own chasm?"

Chuckling to herself, Tara sat up and began running her fingers through the tangles in her hair, wincing as she did. She looked as if she were staring at something very particular in front of her, but when Link followed her gaze, he saw only the entrance to the temple.

"He'll be back," he said. "He'll always come back."

"I know. He will soon enough. Come walking right through that door, I bet."

"Taralisse?"

"Hmm."

"What is he? What is he really?"

"Exactly what I told you he is. A guardian of the temple. Just a defense mechanism."

"He doesn't act like just a defense mechanism," Link said. She didn't move her head, but he saw her look at him through the corner of her eyes. Her face remained expressionless. "And you don't treat him like just a defense mechanism."

"What's your point, pretty boy?"

"Is he human?"

"No." Her answer was frighteningly quick.

"Then...what _is_ he?"

"A guardian," she said.

"You already said that."

"And I'll keep saying it until you understand. That's all he is."

"When are you going to start telling me the truth?" Link said. His patience was reaching its limit. "I'm not stupid, you know. I managed to survive this long for a reason."

Tara froze. Her hair in her hands, her eyes staring forward, her mouth still completely straight. When she froze like that, it was as if the entire world froze. Then, she moved her hand toward her bag and pulled out the pipe. But when she tried to light it, her hands were shaking, and she couldn't.

"Goddammit, why can't I light this stupid thing—"

"Here, I'll get it."

As she sat, shaking in frustration, Link took the match from her fingers and lit it. Then, with the pipe in between her lips, he lit it for her. She breathed in so deeply, and there was such relief on her face, but she was still shaking.

"Why are you shaking so badly?" he whispered. "Is the answer that terrifying?"

"It's not the answer that's terrifying," she said in between her desperate puffs. "It's the fact that I don't _know_ the answer."

She looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes once more.

"And I hate not knowing things."

Right as those words escaped her lips, a shadow moved at the temple's entrance. And there, standing as if he'd never left, was Tempest. He was leaning against the door frame, smirking that dark smirk of his, letting his red hair fall over his green eyes.

"Tempest."

"How was your second trip, hero?" he asked, moving forward into the temple.

"Fine."

"Discover anything interesting?"

"That's right. You disappeared back there," Tara interjected. "Where _did_ you go?"

Link stood up, dusted himself off, cracked his knuckles.

"I followed a young boy to the castle."

"The castle? Why?"

"Because I recognized him."

Tara laughed and lay on her back.

"How could you have possibly recognized him? You're not 200 years old, I take it."

"I saw in his eyes. I saw who he was."

"Enlighten us."

"The Hero of Time."

The silence that followed was just as tense as Link expected it to be. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, and the steady sound of Tara's deep inhalations of smoke.

"You saw the Hero of Time," she finally said.

"Yes. Princess Zelda, too."

"Wow. That's—"

"Overwhelming."

"Time is an overwhelming thing sometimes," Tempest smiled. "It grabs you by the hair and takes you places you never thought you'd go."

"True enough," Link murmured. But he still was not completely comfortable around Tempest. Just the sight of him made him jittery, nervous. Suspicious, paranoid.

"It is amazing, though," Tara said. "Actually going back, making use of the knowledge I've spent years harboring inside my crazy head. It's a satisfying feeling."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it so much," Link sighed. "At least someone is."

"Don't give me sass. Remember the rules."

"I'm not giving you sass."

"Watch yourself."

"Hero," Tempest interrupted. Tara went back to her smoking as Link turned to face the mysterious, dark-nailed guardian. "Are you ready for the next clue?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I'm ready."

"All right. You're closer than before. Much closer."

"How close?"

"Sorry, can't tell you that."

"See? Now that was helpful," she exclaimed. "At least we know it has nothing to do with your princess. Right?"

Link's head was spinning as he started coming to terms with the magnitude of his task. He was shocked that Tara could lay there, smoking her pipe, treating the situation with such calmness while he was trying not to lose his mind. He grasped for the ring around his neck, held it in his palm, tried to block out the negative thoughts. But that had been impossible ever since Zelda had left him. The silence returned after Tara's thoughts. Link had become lost once more in his memories, in that voice that was constantly in his mind. Tara was staring at the ceiling in the same lost way, and Tempest was standing like a statue.

"Food," Tara abruptly said.

"What?" Link mused.

"Food. I'm starving. I feel like I haven't eaten in _days_."

"I...don't think we have."

"Then let's get food."

"I don't have any left with my supplies."

"All I have left is chocolate, and I don't know how much that will help us survive."

"Chocolate? That sounds familiar," Tempest said.

"Don't tell me you don't know what chocolate is!" Tara gasped. She sat straight up, looking at Tempest as if he had just threatened her very existence. "You have to try some. Right now."

Before Tempest could even say another word, Tara was on a rampage. She reached into her bag, pulled out a chocolate, unwrapped it with the grace of a monkey, stood up in a storm, and stuffed the chocolate into Tempest's mouth. Link watched, again utterly confused, as the guardian chewed, slowly at first. But then his entire face lit up and he looked at Tara like she was his savior.

"This is delicious. Way better than that pipe!"

"There's nothing better in this world than chocolate," she nodded. "Even for strange creatures like you, babe. But now I need real food. Any ideas, Mr. Hero?"

As he considered the possibilities—leaving the grove, searching out food, maybe returning to Ordon—he could not get Zelda's voice out of his head. It was there, stronger than ever. And with it came the burdening sense of his own life waning. For a moment, he had forgotten that he was in the middle of betting his life. And with the way Tara was acting, she had forgotten, too. But one look at Tempest, and Link knew that he hadn't forgotten. That he was betting on it, waiting for it with bated breath.

"Let's travel back again and find food then," he said. "I don't want to waste any time."

"Not a bad idea. It'll be much easier anyway. All right, what time next?"

Link almost told her that he wanted to go back to that day again. The day when Zelda had been sitting in the library, reading, beautiful and oblivious to the terrors that were coming. He was so desperate to see her again, feel her again, that the ring was burning against his skin. But if he wanted to truly save her, he reminded himself, he needed to figure this out. And just as he was about to respond, tell them where he wanted to go, he realized that he still had no idea. His mind was still fuzzy, his limbs aching.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"That's okay, because I do," she winked.

"I knew you would."

"Let's go back two hundred years again, but one month later. Sound good?"

"Is there a purpose? For that specific time?"

"Once we're done there, Tempest will tell us how close we are. Won't you, Tempest?"

She placed a hand on her hip and looked over at him, batting her eyelashes in a way that Link had never seen. It surprised him, the way they looked at each other. And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Tempest reached forward and took some of Tara's hair in his hands. Even stranger was that she didn't react at all.

"Maybe I will," he shrugged with a smile. "Maybe I won't."

"See, it'll work."

"Whatever you say," Link sighed. "Whatever you say."

"Set up that clock, Mr. Hero. We'll be off as soon as possible because I am absolutely starving. Chocolate can only hold me back for so long."

She handed him the pocket watch, eyebrows raised.

And for the first time, as he looked into her eyes, he didn't see an illusion. He didn't see the expression that she wanted him to see. He saw straight through her. And he saw how scared—no, how terrified she was.

Seeing Tara terrified made Link even more terrified.

_Stop this, my love,_ came the voice in his head. Singing, making the ring around his neck burn like fire against his chest. _Please stop this. Tell them you don't want to play this game anymore._

_ I have to play this game._

_ You're going to die,_ she said. She was crying. _And then everything I did will be for nothing. Is that what you want? To waste my sacrifice?_

_ I wish I didn't have to,_ he responded, _but I can't live with it. I can't. I can't. Not while it crushes me, knowing that I'm alive because you're dead._

_ I did it for you._

_ I should be dead._

_ NO,_ she screamed.

"Link?"

Tara's voice brought him back to reality. He realized that he had been staring at her with wide eyes, his quivering fingers running along the rough edges of the watch.

"Are you okay?" she asked him.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're a terrible liar."

"Well, do you expect me to be okay?" he challenged.

Tara stared back at him, the fear still terribly prevalent in her eyes. Even as she smiled, looked at Tempest, hid everything as she always hid it. But for some reason, Link could see it now. Like something within him had shifted, given him the power to look inside of her.

"No," she said. "No. I would be worried if you were calm."

"Me, too."

"Can we go, please? I'm about to starve to death here."

He could see it so clearly now. The way she covered the pain with her words. The way she smoked so that the fog could hide the real features of her face. The fierce smile constantly tugging on her lips to hide the tears. Something so terrible buried deep inside her. Link noticed something even stranger still. Every few moments, as if worried that he would disappear, Tara glanced over at Tempest.

_It's Tempest,_ Link thought. _He's bringing something out of her that I've never seen._

Those thoughts still colliding in his head, Link grabbed Tara's hand and she grabbed Tempest's and they stood in the center of the temple. Then, after adjusting the pocket watch as Tara had instructed, he began the ritual.

"Time. Time is alive. Time is like a tempest."

And then they were whisked away once more by the claws of the tempest of time.

* * *

That evening, Shad couldn't sleep. And he could tell by Ashei's movements beside him, through the darkness, that she wasn't asleep either. He couldn't stop thinking about what Auru and Carlotta had told them. Their histories, what it truly was that made them who they were. It made Shad happy, finally knowing what made Auru tick. He had considered Auru a mentor, a leader, for so long. In a way, it was rewarding to know the full story. And it made him happy to see the way Carlotta and Auru looked at each other.

"Shad?" Ashei whispered, slicing through the darkness.

"Yes, darling?"

"Auru left out another part of the story."

"What now?"

"He never told us why he and Carlotta fell out of love."

"Or if they ever did, truly."

"Yeah."

"Perhaps we should ask him tomorrow."

"You know what I think?"

"I would love to hear your thoughts about it, actually. Your thoughts are always so interesting to me."

She chuckled softly, in a way that gave him goose bumps. Then, beneath the soft covers of his bed, she inched closer until she was able to lay one hand on his bare chest and rest her head on his shoulder. He held back his shivers, spurred by the way her dark hair tickled his skin. The way her fingertips grazed the thinnest surface of his chest. The way her breath, warm and heavy, spread from his neck down to his toes.

"I think they were supposed to get married," she continued.

"Married?"

"They seem like that type, yeah? They were gonna tie the knot and everything. But it was hard, working in the castle, for Auru. Or maybe for Carlotta. I haven't worked out the kinks yet."

Shad laughed and turned his face, so that his forehead was touching hers. Slowly, he reached his hand up so that his fingers could intertwine with her fingers and he could feel a little bit closer to her.

"So they were supposed to get married. But then Auru left to explore the desert, yeah?"

"That he did."

"How long did he say he was there? Four years?"

"Yes, that sounds right."

"He explores the desert for four years. But back home in Castle Town, Carlotta is trying to wait for him, yeah? But she doesn't get word from him. I mean, how's a guy supposed to send mail from a desert."

"True, true."

"So, she gives up hope. Convinces herself that he's dead. Marries off to someone else."

"You think she married someone else?"

"Either that, or she closed off her heart to him for good. So by the time he came back...it was too late."

"Quite the theory."

"Hey, it makes sense, yeah?"

"Of course it does, dear, of course it does."

He felt her smile when he pressed his lips against hers. Felt her fingers squeeze more tightly. Felt her breath mingling with his, lost track of himself in the darkness. One minute his eyelids were drooping, pushing him to the very edge of sleep. The next minute, they were chest to chest, his hands at the nape of her neck, her back pressed against the bed.

"Did you have a sweetheart back when you were young, Shad?" she suddenly asked.

He was hardly aware of the question as he let his lips linger above her forehead.

"Hmm, perhaps."

"It's a yes or no question," she insisted.

"Then yes, I did."

"When?"

"In school, when I was studying."

His words were muffled by the movement of his lips from her temple to her cheek, her lips, her jawbone, the tender skin just beneath her chin. But Ashei was persistent.

"Was she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Am I beautiful?"

"No," he smiled. "You are breathtaking."

"Didn't realize the two were mutually exclusive."

"Oh come now, dear. I'm actually trying to be romantic this time. You know I think you're beautiful."

"More beautiful than your sweetheart from school?"

"Of course."

"Was she in school with you?"

"Mhmm."

"What did she study?"

Shad suddenly realized that he was treading on thin ice. He paused, his lips still pressed against her neck. Ashei froze as well, but he could feel her eyes watching his face. If he answered the question truthfully, Ashei would get angry. But if he refused to answer the question, Ashei would still get angry. And probably figure it out anyway.

"She studied time," he finally succumbed.

Just like that, Ashei pushed him off and leaned onto her elbow so that she was facing him and he could sense the tension in her glare. It was awfully uncomfortable for him.

_I should have been expecting this._

"You were in love with _Tara_?"

"I wouldn't say we were in love," he chuckled nervously. "Love is such a strong word."

"So you just slept together, yeah? Now I understand the infatuation."

"Ashei, darling, please. We were very close then, I admit. But it's different now!"

"Close. That's all?"

"Well, I mean, w-we, well, we could r-relate to one another, a-and—"

"So you never loved her?"

"N-no! Not in the traditional sense of the word."

"Then in _what_ sense, Shad?"

The anger in her voice was rising, for Shad knew that he was testing her patience. But he wasn't exactly sure what else he could do.

"We enjoyed each other's c-company," he stumbled. "We could talk about everything, really. But you must understand, dear, there was never a romantic spark between us."

"But you still slept with her, yeah?"

"Erm, y-yes."

She continued staring at him for a couple icy moments, moments that felt like the end of the world for poor awkward Shad. But finally, she let out a scoff and dropped back down to her back. Her frightening glare was redirected toward the ceiling.

"It's over now, Ashei," he said.

"Let me ask you something, Shad."

"P-please, go ahead."

"Is there a romantic spark between _us?_ Or is this like before for you? Good conversation and a good night's sleep?"

Everything became a bit lighter for him then. With a smile, he sat up, reached over, and cupped her face in his hands. He could feel the tension in her cheeks releasing. Then, as softly and as gently and as tenderly as he could, he bent down and kissed her forehead. He ran his fingers through her hair, let his lips sit against her skin. He saw her close her eyes, breathe out deeply, releasing all the tension.

"Of course there's a romantic spark between us," he whispered. "Of course."

"Good," she smiled. "I think so too."

"Good."

"One more question."

"Please."

"Do you love me, Shad?"

He tensed up for a single moment, afraid of what his own mind would force from his lips. Afraid of what the answer was. Because he didn't truly know himself. Until, finally, he opened his mouth and just let whatever words were meant to flow...flow.

"Yes. I love you."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Because I love you, too."

_And that's that,_ he thought in exhilaration. _That's that._


	27. Light It Up

**Hi lovelies! Here is chapter 27. Sorry it took a bit longer than usual. Dat college life. **

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Light It Up

Everything in Hyrule Castle Town looked the same: the vibrant markets, the bright sunlight, the castle rising in the distance. They walked outside for the second time, this time with a clear purpose in mind. To get food. And Tara looked as if she truly had a mission. Just like the first time, Link walked slightly behind her, while she sprung along with Tempest's hand held tightly in hers. Tempest let her pull him as he always did, smiling as he always did, looking at her with the same affection as he always did. Link, of course, was just as confused as always, too. But ever since he had been able to see into Tara's eyes, truly see, Zelda had been speaking to him more furiously than usual.

_Stop this. Stop this game. It's not the right game to play._

_ Zelda, my love, please. You're crushing me._

"That looks like a nice little café over there," Tara said.

Link was walking absentmindedly, distracted from his own hunger. So he walked to the café that Tara had pointed out. As they sat down at a table together, just the three of them, Link realized that the café reminded him a lot of Telma's tavern. The small, homey feel. The warm food even in the middle of a nice, sunny day. The sweet, familiar woman who was serving them. She smiled at them so comfortingly.

"You look so familiar," she said to Link, handing him a bowl of soup. "Keep smiling, mah boi."

So he smiled, just for her. He didn't even realize how hungry he was until he swallowed the first mouthful. But after that, he fell upon the soup like a ravenous dog. Across from him, Tara devoured her own meal—Cucco breast and potato wedges. But Tempest didn't order anything. He simply sat in between them, eating an occasional chocolate from Tara's bag. As if eating were a luxury for him. Something he didn't have to do. Something he was choosing to do. For all Link knew, that very well could have been the case.

They ate in silence for a few moments, unable to pause and speak in the midst of their chewing and swallowing. Link watched the people, so normal and content, walking outside the window. Going to buy food from the market, heading to work, sitting and enjoying the sun in the plaza. It almost made him forget the real reason he was even able to be here. Almost made him forget the pocket watch in his tunic.

_Stop this, stop this, stop this,_ Zelda kept saying. The whole time. _Stop throwing away my sacrifices. _

"I feel like I could eat five more of those," Tara breathed once she was finished.

"That hungry, huh?"

"Yeah."

Tara leaned back and lit her pipe, blowing out toward the ceiling. As soon as the smoke left her lips, the woman who had served them the food rushed back to the table.

"Miss, I'm sorry! No smoking allowed."

Tara froze, looked over at the woman. Then she smiled.

"How about I open the window?" she said.

Without putting out her pipe, she reached over and opened the window. Link and Tempest both held back their laughter while the woman stood, stammering, trying to come up with something to say. But she just couldn't. So she huffed and puffed a little bit and then walked away. Tara smiled triumphantly and continued smoking.

"I still don't understand how you can bear that," Tempest said.

"It's a lot better than you might think," Link shrugged.

Then he reached over and wiggled his fingers, watching Tara unflinchingly until she finally succumbed. With a roll of her eyes, she handed Link the pipe and let him take a drag.

"One's enough for you, pretty boy," she said, taking it back.

As she put the pipe back in her mouth, Tempest abruptly stood up.

"I'm going on a walk," he said, rather matter-of-factly.

"Alone?" Tara replied.

"I'll be back soon."

"Whatever," she sighed. "I guess Link and I should come up with a strategy for the next hour and a half."

"Sure, good idea. See you soon."

For a moment, Link thought that Tempest was going to lean down and give Tara a big kiss from the way he was looking at her. But he didn't. He simply gazed at her for a few seconds, smiled, and walked out. But not before running his fingers through a strand of her hair, as if it were the most natural thing to do. The entire time, Tara was gazing right back at him, like that was the most natural thing to do, too.

As soon as Tempest was gone, Link realized that this was his opportunity.

"What was that just now?" he asked.

"What?" she asked. Then, as a server walked by, she stopped him with her hand. "Two teas, please."

"Right away," he replied.

"You know what I'm talking about," Link continued. "You always know exactly what I'm talking about. Why do you always try to hide it?"

She stared at him, wordlessly and emotionlessly, holding the smoking pipe in her fingers.

"I don't _try_ to hide it, babe," she smirked. "I _do_ hide it."

"Well you're done hiding it—"

"It's not my fault you can't see."

"Well I can now," he said. "Listen, Taralisse. Your personal life is none of my business. But now I'm involved."

"Involved? Please. How are _you_ involved in my personal life?"

The wall was up again. Tara had almost managed to convince Link that the wall was down—and down for good. But she was back to the callous, feisty mood she had been when he first met her. Defiant, borderline insulting.

"Because the way I see it, Tempest is involved in your personal life. And Tempest is involved with me."

"Never took you for the logical type," she said. "More the swinging your sword blindly type."

"I usually am. But I need to start hearing the truth from you."

"Good luck with that. I'm a natural liar, you know. You won't be able to tell when I'm telling the truth or when I'm downright fooling you," she laughed.

"Yes I will." Link was the one who smiled this time. He knew he was backing her into a corner. "I can see it in your eyes now."

"I thought you said you couldn't use your special gift on me," she murmured. "Your little character-reading thing."

"I couldn't before, no. But ever since Tempest has appeared, something's changed."

"You need to get over yourself."

"Taralisse, please." Link lowered his voice to a whisper. He was beginning to get desperate in response to her defiance. "Please tell me the truth. You know Tempest."

"You know him, too."

"No, you _know_ him. You keep telling me he's not human, and yet—"

"What?" she interrupted. She blew a puff of smoke right into his face. "Yet what?"

"I actually see it more in the way he acts than the way you do," Link answered. "He knows you. And you know him."

He could see her starting to get nervous. She was fiddling with her pipe, pursing her lips. Giving him an irritated look.

"I've never met him before in my life."

Just then, the server placed the two teas on the table in front of them. Link took the opportunity to grab the handle and squeeze it as tightly as he could, until he felt pain erupting in his palm.

"Shouldn't we be strategizing to win your little game instead of delving into my relationship with Tempest?" she finally said.

"Who _is_ he? What is he? I...we don't have much time."

"That's why I'm telling you to lay off."

Link leaned forward, spoke as quietly as he could, looked right in her eyes. But she maintained her leisurely pose. The pipe looked oddly romantic between her lips.

"Listen to me, Taralisse," he said. "I might not have much time left."

"Don't say that."

"If I'm going to die, I want to know every piece of the story."

"Stop that."

"You're brilliant, okay? Too brilliant for your own good. And I need to know what's going on."

She was leaning forward now, too. He could see from the lines on her face that she was clenching her jaw. Her eyes, so violet and bright, were glistening in what Link could only believe was fear. Apprehension. Utter terror.

"Stop talking about dying," she hissed. "I don't want to hear you talk about that."

"It doesn't matter if I don't talk about it, my life is still on the line here. I at least deserve the full story."

"Your life is on the line because of your own stupid decisions."

"It doesn't matter why now," he breathed. He leaned a little bit closer, just enough so he could see the tears shimmering on her eyes. "Taralisse. I am desperate."

Her lips started trembling, but she tried to cover it up by bringing the pipe back to them. But, of course, her hands were trembling just as much.

"Is it about your sister?" he asked. Tara began shaking her head, slowly. "Your sister, who had the dreams? The same dreams as me?" "

"Nia."

"Nia. Is it about Nia?"

She was shaking her head harder now, closing her eyes, leaning her temple on her hand.

"Please, Taralisse. Tell me. Tell me about the dreams. Tell me about Nia."

"It's a long story."

"We have one hour."

"Don't you want to—?"

"No."

Tara stopped shaking her head. She leaned back in her chair again, and took a smoke. Her hands and lips weren't trembling anymore, and any trace of anguish was gone from her face. She looked resigned, regal.

"All right," she said. "Fine. You win, Mr. Hero. I'll tell you about the dreams. I'll tell you about Nia. I'll tell you about Tempest."

"Good."

"On one condition."

Link was taken off-guard. He leaned back as well, his head spinning already. He could hardly comprehend how quickly she had bounced back. Right back to her cold ways. It was making him furious.

"What could I possibly give you that I haven't already given you?" he spat.

"The truth," she hissed, "just like you're asking from me."

He got chills. From her words. From their ferocity. From the way she was looking at him. The iciness. She was not going to back down. It made him even more furious. He was trying to back her into a corner—but she was trapping him right back.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't be a hypocrite now, pretty boy," she chuckled emptily. "You say you can tell I'm lying? Well I can read you even better than you can read me. You said it yourself. I'm too brilliant for my own good. I'll only tell you the truth about Tempest if you tell me the truth about why you want to bring back Princess Zelda."

"It's because I love her."

"Don't bullshit me!" She threw her head back and laughed. Loudly. "It's like I told you before. I meant what I said, Link. Love isn't the most powerful emotion. Rage is. You wouldn't be doing this for love alone."

He paused, considered what would happen if he told her the truth. The truth about the burden on his shoulders. The voice in his head. The fiery ring against his chest. The guilt. The raw, terrible, awful guilt. Of knowing that he was alive because she was dead.

But one look into Tara's eyes and he knew the truth was going to come out eventually.

"Fine. It's a deal," he said.

"That's what I like to hear," she grinned.

"You first."

She reached into her bag and handed him a match.

"Light up my pipe," she demanded. "I'm gonna need it."

* * *

They were finally at that point, Tara decided. The point at which she had to tell Link what he needed to know. No, she thought. Not even what he needed to know. What he wanted desperately to know. She had already told herself before that this moment would come, when the dam burst and everything came rushing out like a raging river. She just never expected it to come so soon. She wasn't sure that she was prepared. But that look in his eyes was vicious. It reminded her, in a way, of the look she imagined in her own eyes. Now was the time. Not that he had given her much of a choice. He had, in fact, backed her into a corner as soon as he'd mentioned Nia's name. It was like a trigger in her brain, a call from behind some divine wall. The only thing keeping her sane at that moment was the warm pipe in her hands.

"She was seven years older than me. But we were always close," she began.

At first, the words tasted like poison on her lips. But she convinced herself to keep speaking with the prospect that they would taste better later. That it would soon be like a burden lifted from her shoulders. Across the table, Link nodded and took a sip of his tea. For some reason, Tara wished that Tempest were there, too. As some kind of rock she could look to and find comfort, even if the comfort was a confused and terrorized kind of comfort.

"Neither of my parents were scholars in the traditional sense. My mother was a doctor and my father was a blacksmith. So my sister wasn't a scholar, either. I was the only one. She wanted to be a doctor, like my mother. Ever since she was young, she wanted nothing more than to help people."

"She sounds wonderful."

"Sexy, too. I mean, we were like opposites when it comes to looks. I'm dark, short, not the skinniest around. She was tall. Slender. Had hair that was so blonde it was almost white. She was always the pretty one. Which I didn't mind, since I became the smart one," she smiled.

The memories, now that she was letting them, were coming back to her. She thought they would crush her soul, but they didn't. They just made her smile.

"Guys went after her like moths to a fire."

"Not to you?" he grinned.

"No, I scared them off. Quite deliberately, so it didn't matter," she replied. "I doubt you're here to listen to my childhood ramblings, so I'll get on with it. My father died when I was five and my sister was twelve. An explosion in his shop, where he did all of his blacksmithing. I don't remember very well, but my sister was devastated. She and my father were very close. Say, do you remember what my apartment looks like?"

"How could I forget?"

"You saw all those pictures, right?"

"Yeah, I think I remember. Pictures of random objects."

"That's right. Nia took those pictures."

"She was a photographer?"

"That was her passion. My father was the one who taught her. That's why she took it so hard. And it was hard on my mother, too, because she couldn't save him. She tried...hell, did she try. But I guess even the most skilled doctor couldn't have saved him. That's what people told us. After my dad died, my mom slipped into depression. The severe, terrible kind. I couldn't really understand it. I was only five. But my sister understood exactly what was happening. It hurt her so much."

"It must have been hard," Link said. Tara scoffed and drank her own tea. To feel the bitterness.

"Not for me," she shrugged. "I was only a child. It was hard for my sister and my mother. See, they didn't have much to distract them. I, on the other hand, had my studies."

"Your studies? In what?"

"Everything," she grinned. "Anything and everything. I didn't just up and decide to study time. At first I wanted to study everything. That was literally my goal."

"Sounds ambitious."

"Oh, I was. Still am. But I'm getting distracted," she sighed, exhaling the smoke. "My mother would walk around the house, rambling to herself. And there was one line she would always say. Even I remember this like it was yesterday. She would say, over and over, 'If only I could turn back time. If only I could turn back time.'"

Tara shrugged and felt her mouth beginning to tremble again, so she stopped it by finishing her tea in one, monstrous gulp. Now it was starting to get painful. Because she was actually remembering.

"Is that why you became interested in it?" Link pressed. "For your mother?"

"No," she breathed. "No. It's how my sister became interested in it."

"Nia?"

"Yes. My mother, she said those things, yes. But she was nearly mad at that point. They were the ramblings of an insane woman. Nia took them seriously, though. She heard my mother say that and thought, turning back time would solve my problems. She became obsessed with that concept, hearing my mother say it over and over and over. She became obsessed with the possibility."

"So she was interested in time before you were."

"Yes. Quite interested, actually. She started doing exactly what you were doing," Tara continued. "She read. She tried to understand time. Obsessed over it. She kept telling everybody that she was going to find a way to turn back time. To save our parents. She said she was going to find the Temple of Time."

"...Did she?"

This time, Tara laughed. Threw her head back and just laughed, in pain and in nostalgia and, to be honest with herself, because the memory was funny. It was all funny, in retrospect. Coldly hilarious.

"Nia was an artist and a beauty queen," she said, "but she was no scholar. Not of any kind. There was no hope for her finding the Temple of Time on her own. Kind of like you."

"I did find the Temple of Time."

"And had no idea what to do with it, if you'll recall," Tara smiled. "What I mean to say is that she didn't have enough information. She didn't understand the concept of time well enough to even get close to getting what she wanted. But...she knew that I might have the capacity to do it."

"Do what, exactly?"

"Understand time. Help her understand it. Just like I'm helping you."

"What about the dreams? And how you know so much?"

"Will you calm down? I'm getting there." Tara ordered another cup of tea because the smoking and the chocolate weren't enough for her to control herself. "Nia convinced me to help her. To be honest, I would have done anything for her. She was my older sister, and my role model. The one who took care of me, since my mother had spiraled out of control. By the time I was seven, Nia had convinced me to study time. She would tell me what she needed, what she was confused about. I would try my best to work out the problems."

"But didn't you say you were seven years apart? How could you even understand the things that she couldn't?" he gasped.

Tara shrugged, and considered acting modest. Just for his sake. But then, ultimately, she decided against it. After all, she had promised to tell him the truth.

"You said it yourself, pretty boy. I'm a genius. You don't grow into being a genius. You just are."

"I love your humility."

"Most do."

"So she was interested in time, and you helped her with the concepts?"

"That's right. Just the concepts."

"What about the dreams? And Tempest?"

Tara looked up at the ceiling and, for the first time in three years, heard Nia's voice clearly in her head.

_If only we could turn back time._

"She started having the dreams on the night of her sixteenth birthday. I was nine. That's when everything went to hell."

* * *

**YAY FOR BACKSTORIES amirite?**


	28. Driving Nia Crazy

**Okay, I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter. Like, a lot. Actually, for these last six-ish chapters, I had an absolute blast. Yup, only six chapters left! ALMOST DONE. **

**(finally)**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Driving Nia Crazy

"Where is Master Link?"

"It has been five days!"

"If he is truly as sick as you say, he needs medical attention immediately!"

The council was even more restless than usual today, Shad noticed. His nerves were becoming more jittery than usual as well. He, along with Auru and Ashei, stood at the head of the table, trying to calm down the council members as much as they could. But after five days without seeing—or even truly hearing from—their future ruler, it was only natural that they become angry. It just was not something Shad was ready or willing to deal with. He could only stand, words fumbling across his lips, while Ashei banged her fists on the table and Auru tried to calm them down with his famous fatherly charm. But it seemed today, that nothing was working. They were truly angry this time.

"The knighting was supposed to be _today_!"

"We told you already," Ashei cried. "The knighting has been postponed. Link's orders."

"Master Link," one council member said.

Ashei looked over at him with her most charming smile, batted her eyelashes a couple of times, and then stuck up her middle finger. Now, in the midst of trying to find any words at all, Shad was forced to hold back his laughter.

"Get that stick out of your arse," she sneered. "As for the rest of you, hold onto your loyalty, yeah? Trust in your ruler."

"He's not our ruler yet," a woman cried. "And at this rate, he never will be!"

"We're trying our best to nurse him back to health," Auru said. "He's come down with a rare sickness with no known cure, and—"

"We've had our fair share of incurable sicknesses, Auru," the woman scoffed. "Let us speak to him. At least to know that he is _alive_."

At that point, Shad was ready to break down and tell them. Tell them everything—in a sense, he felt like a bit of a traitor. He had joined the Royal Council in the hopes that he would be able to better serve his country. But here he was, doing what in his eyes was a favor for a friend, while the country he swore to serve quickly descended into chaos. After all, there was no ruler. No one but the chaotic council for the people of Hyrule to look up to. It made him terribly nervous. So nervous that when he put his palms on the table, he left sweaty marks on the wood.

_Disgusting..._

"Specific orders," Ashei shrugged. "We're the only ones to see him."

"This hardly seems sensible," another member said. "Or logical, for that matter. Why would Master Link even—?"

"Don't question it!" Ashei cried.

She lifted up her hands to silence them, raised her chin, spoke with the authority of a queen herself. This time, it was even more difficult for Shad to hold in his laughter. She looked ridiculous, and she knew.

"Well, it's our _job_ to question it, Ashei," the man said, pursing his lips. "Of course we trust Master Link. But you're asking us to trust _you_."

"Master Link trusts us. That should be enough, yeah?"

"Yeah, no."

"You know what," Shad laughed nervously. He wanted any excuse to leave that tense atmosphere. "I'm going to check on him right now. If you'll excuse me."

"Let us come with you! Please, just to make sure he's okay."

A few members began standing up, and with that, Shad began to panic. He felt the sweat gathering on his forehead, the notebook in his hands shaking, his glasses fogging up. Everything was hot. Desperately, he looked over at Ashei, who widened her eyes at him. Then he looked to Auru, who was smiling a coy, mischievous smile. Shad could see that he was thinking of something.

"Very well," he said, almost giving Shad a heart attack. "We shall go ahead and let him know you're coming."

With a curt smile, he grabbed both Ashei and Shad by the arm and dragged them out of the council room, leaving the flabbergasted members rather satisfied behind him. Auru walked furiously down the hall, dragging the two behind him, straight toward Link's bedroom.

"What're ya doing, old man?! They can't know Link's gone!" Ashei cried.

"No, you're right, they can't."

"W-well then, pray tell, why did you invite them _to his room_?!" Shad stuttered.

"Because he's there," Auru shrugged, "waiting to speak to them."

"Maybe you've forgotten already, _but he's all the way across Hyrule!"_ Ashei exclaimed.

"No he's not," Auru smiled.

They had arrived at the door to Link's room, Auru standing as calm and collected as ever, while Ashei and Shad stared at him through their heavy breathing. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was making sense in Shad's head. And that was truly a rare occasion.

"Really? Then tell us, old man." Ashei crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Where's he at?"

Then, Auru did exactly what Shad was afraid he would do. He lifted his hand and pointed a single gloved finger straight at Shad's forehead. Gave a lovely little smile. And all Shad could do was pout, slouch, and think, _Wonderful. Just wonderful. As if I can even handle being me. _

"He's right here."

* * *

"Were her dreams exactly the same as mine?" Link asked. He had become pale, his eyes wide and quivering. Tara was having trouble composing herself, as well.

"I guess I can't say for sure. All I know is what she told me."

"What did she tell you?"

"We shared a room. On the night of her sixteenth birthday, she woke up at midnight, screaming as if someone were murdering her right then and there. I woke up and ran to her bed, to comfort her. I knew she was accustomed to nightmares, but...this was different. She was shaking so hard," Tara said. "She told me that she had been floating in a lake of fire that wasn't hot. And then, while she was floating there, she saw a shadow holding a pocket watch. The shadow began swinging the pocket watch, and said the phrases. Time, time is alive, time is like a tempest."

"That's exactly what my dreams were like," Link shivered. "Exactly."

"She said the worst part was the ticking. A very, very loud ticking."

Tara watched wordlessly as he buried his face in his hands. And she wondered why, out of everybody, she had had the good luck of being spared the nightmare. Even though she was the one who needed it most, it seemed.

"Did you hear me speak of the dream that night?" he murmured. "In Renado's house. When you were pretending to be asleep."

"Yes. When I heard you talk about your dream, I knew exactly what was happening. Nia suffered with the dreams all the time—so long as throughout the day, she let herself be consumed with the desire to turn back time, as my mother always said. At first, she hated them. Always woke up in a terrible sweat. Then, just as it happened to you, she started feeling as if somebody were following her."

"Warm. A hand with dark fingernails."

"Exactly."

"Tempest."

"Tempest."

"You've seen this entire process before," Link said, confused. "It's like a fatal pattern. It happened to me exactly as it happened to your sister."

Tara downed her second cup of tea and decided that it just wasn't doing it, so she ordered a mug of rum. The server glared at her, utterly confused. For it was only one in the afternoon, and for someone like Tara to order a mug of rum must have been strange. Not that it mattered to her. She would be gone in half an hour.

"So that's how you knew about the dream. About the phrases," he continued. "But you still haven't explained how you know everything about the temple. I mean, it's understandable for you to know about the concept of time itself, because it's a subject that can be studied. But about the Master Sword, the Pedestal, the Door...how did you know the information about all of that? Things that nobody but myself knows?"

"I haven't even gotten to the best part of the story," Tara scoffed. "You're right about it being a pattern. I realized, once I heard about your plan and the fact that you were having the dream, that the dream itself is a defense mechanism."

"Like Renado said. A warning."

"Exactly! A warning. Once you have an idea in your head, the idea that you can somehow turn back time with the mechanisms of a temple that once did so, it's like a giant red alarm. In a way, the dreams are like psychological torture to deter the aggressor from even attempting."

"How gracious of the gods," he spat.

"You're tough," Tara admitted. "You've been through a lot. You were able to deal with the dreams and Tempest's ghostly presence somehow. In fact, you used it as your motivation. But Nia was not as strong. Although, I have to give her credit. She put up with those dreams for a while before she really, truly cracked."

"How long?"

"One year. And I lived in pure hell for that one year when I was nine going on ten. The only people in my life, my only family, were going insane. Believe it or not, _I_ was the only sane one. And I'm pretty crazy myself. My mother slipped further and further into her own mind, and my sister was being driven mad by the dreams. She would always tell me about the shadow in her dreams. Nia believed it to be a man. She said he was driving her crazy. That she hated him more than anything, that she didn't know why he was there every single night. That, if she knew his name or who he was, she would kill him herself."

Tara paused to take a sip of rum and let herself smile. Even if it was only for a moment.

"And all while I was burying my stupid head in my stupid books, learning more and more about the world around me while learning less and less about the people around me. I was still young. I didn't know what the dream meant. I had my theories, of course. But I was no dream-reader. I'm no dream-reader now. It's just that now I can understand how the gods work a lot better."

"Nobody can understand how the gods work," Link argued, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh please, don't get all religious on me now, chosen hero," she laughed. "Gods are just like anything else. You study their patterns long enough and you can predict how they work just fine. I just hadn't studied their patterns long enough when I was ten. I really did think my sister was going crazy. We would be walking through the market, picking up food, and she would begin screaming and flailing around as if somebody had tried to grab her. And there would be nobody there."

"I know the feeling."

"No matter where we were, no matter what we were doing, she would always be looking over her shoulder, at someone who I couldn't see. It almost drove _me_ mad."

"Maybe it did," he sighed.

Tara couldn't help but laugh, because it was the only thing to do instead of cry.

"You're right," she said. "Maybe it did."

With a soft, almost sympathetic smile, Link mimicked her and ordered a mug of rum himself. So they sat, the two of them in their little café, talking about the past and drinking hard liquor in the middle of the afternoon.

"So I suppose that answers some of your questions," she continued. "How I knew what your dream was like, how I knew that someone was following you."

"You look like you have more to tell me."

"On the night of my sister's seventeenth birthday, the anniversary of her first dream, she made a decision. She said before she went to bed that night that she wanted the dreams to go away, and that she was going to make that man with the pocket watch leave her alone. Of course, being used to her saying relatively odd things, I brushed it off."

"But she actually meant it."

"Yes. She did." Tara paused here to take a nice big gulp of her alcohol, feel it burn as it slithered down her throat. "The next morning, she woke up feeling more refreshed than she ever had before."

"Why?"

"During her dream, she had 'taken control,' as she put it. While she was in the lake of fire, she did something strange. When the shadowy figure approached her, began chanting and swinging his pocket watch as usual...she reached up and she grabbed it."

"But it's just a dream," he argued. "How could that have affected anything?"

"I'm not sure. But once she grabbed it, she said, the man came out from the shadows and she saw his face. Told me that he looked like a boy with fiery red hair and green eyes."

"Tempest."

"Yes. And then, the fire disappeared and she was standing in the middle of the Sacred Grove. Of course, she didn't know it was the Sacred Grove at the time. But that's where she was. Tempest stood and bowed to her, without saying a word. Then she woke up."

"How strange. What happened?"

"For a few weeks, she seemed normal for once. She started taking photographs again, didn't say anything about my father or about time. She would help me take care of our mother, who was beyond any curable illness. Left me to do my studies. By that time, of course, time had begun to interest me. I was studying it very closely. Trying to understand what exactly it meant. That was actually the time when I first started collecting clocks. But, after those few weeks, she...well, she started having dreams again."

"The same one?"

"Oh, no," Tara smirked. Then she finished the last of her rum and basked in the warmth throughout her body for a few moments, thought about what it was she was going to say to Link, this pure, virtuous, genuine man sitting before her, begging her for the truth. "No, she started having different dreams."

"What kinds of dreams?"

"Prophetic dreams. That's when our lives went even deeper into hell," she said. "It's just that this time, Nia didn't even realize it."

* * *

"All right, take your clothes off."

"Wh-what?"

Ashei shoved Shad into the room and slammed the door behind her, and Shad realized that she had jumped, without hesitation, onto Auru's side.

"Come on, come on, take 'em off! We don't have much time," she pressed. Auru stood behind her, his arms crossed and a friendly smile on his lips.

"She's right, you know," he said. "If this is going to work, we have to hurry."

"This is _not_ going to work!" Shad cried. He was sweating bullets and clinging to his clothes for dear life. "What makes you think I can pass as Link? We're like night and day!"

"You don't have to do that much, babe," Ashei sighed. She was walking toward him, slowly and deliberately, with her hands reaching out. As if to grab his heart right from out his chest. "All you have to do is take your clothes off, get in bed, and pull up the covers. Then you just act sick, yeah? Make your voice all gruff sounding."

"I don't know if you've heard my voice lately," he spat sarcastically, "but it is not gruff in the slightest. There's no way I could ever sound like Link."

"You'd know what to say. You're his best friend, after all," Auru pointed out. "Honestly, if I could do it myself, I would. But I can't."

"It's not going to work..."

"We at least have to try!" Ashei exclaimed. He wondered if she even realized how large her smile was. It made him nervous, and he hugged himself a little bit more tightly as she lay her hands on his shoulders. "Come on, Shadsie, please? Please? Please?"

Her tricks were working, as much as he tried not to let them. Her eyes were boring into his soul, big and bright, while her hands sat almost pleadingly against his neck.

"Fine."

"Fabulous!"

With a heavy, reluctant sigh, Shad spread his arms out. Auru stood watching the door while Ashei hastily took his clothes off, article by article, until he was left in his underwear. Which was awkward for him. By the time she was done, he was cold, his cheeks were as red as tomatoes, his glasses were crooked, and he couldn't remember why he had agreed to do this.

"Well, I'm certainly not as toned as Link."

_Why, why, indeed._

"You're fine. Now give me your glasses and get in bed," she commanded.

The tone of her voice, mixed into the whole situation, was almost enough to make him laugh. But he was too nervous and too panicky to laugh.

"All right, all right, no need to be pushy," he sighed.

As she whisked his glasses off his face (and everything became accordingly blurry), he stumbled across the room toward what looked to be the bed. He really couldn't see much without his glasses. Jittery and fidgety and strangely self-conscious, he curled up in the bed and turned to look at the blurry figures of Ashei and Auru.

"This isn't going to work," he said.

"Don't worry. We'll keep them at bay. You just act as much like Link as possible, yeah?"

Then Ashei threw his clothes under the bed and put his glasses into a random drawer of Link's cabinet.

"Hey!" he cried. "Th-there might be bugs under there. Or rats. Or—"

"Your clothes will be fine, honey," she sighed. "And if not, I will personally buy you a new petticoat."

"Whatever."

Suddenly, they heard footsteps approaching. Quickly, with a desperation that was evident simply from the sounds. Before Shad knew what was happening, Ashei slapped his shoulder and began shushing them incessantly.

"Turn around, Shad! Before they see your face!"

"A-all right, all right!"

"OH! Wait! Your hair!"

"My wha—HEY!"

Despite his protests, Ashei grabbed the scarf that was around her neck and wrapped it haphazardly around Shad's head. Apparently, to cover the color of his hair. Since, as everyone knew, it was not blond like Link's, but an orange color. Then, with hands just as strong as he would expect, she pushed him over so that he was facing the window instead of the door.

Almost as soon as he had turned around, Auru opened the door for the angst-ridden council members. At that point, Shad was completely desperate and completely hopeless. He had resigned. He was just waiting for the moment to be found out and for Link's secret to become public knowledge. And fuel public anger. Perhaps more than they could control.

"Try to be quiet," Auru murmured. "He's still recovering, as you know. He's a bit sensitive."

"Of course, of course," they responded. They sounded rather surprised to have actually found someone (who they apparently believed to be Link) in Link's bed. "How are you doing, Master Link?"

Shad swallowed and lowered his voice as much as possible.

"Terrible," he grumbled. "Absolutely horrible. Like I'm going to die."

As inconspicuously as possible, Ashei smacked his bare shoulder.

_Don't overdo it, _he thought.

_ How hard can it be to be Link?_

* * *

**A kind of creepy story like this needs some humor, wouldn't you agree?**


	29. Fear is Fear

**No humor in this chapter, I'm afraid...**

**I should really be sleeping right now but obviously no I'm on FanFiction what else would a college student be doing on a Wednesday night harharhar -fails courses-**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Fear is Fear

His stomach churning and his mind buzzing with the effects of rum, Link checked the pocket watch. They had ten minutes left. But the strangest thing, he thought, was that Tempest had not returned. Even after promising to be back soon. He remained absent while Tara drank and smoked and laughed and scoffed and spilled her story to him. Link saw with every word that she spoke how inherent this story was to her character. How much it had shaped her, helped her define who she was. And slowly, he was beginning to understand. For the first time since meeting Tara, he wasn't completely lost. It was a nice feeling.

"Nia had prophetic dreams," he said. "As in, she could tell the future?"

"Not exactly. Her dreams didn't show her the future. They showed her the Temple of Time."

"How is that prophetic?"

"Because," she sighed, "her dreams provided her with pieces of information regarding the temple. Things that were not in any book, had never been experienced by anybody."

"Except for the Hero of Time."

"Right."

"Like the pedestal. That's how you knew. Because your sister dreamt about it."

Everything was finally fitting into place in a frightening, disconcerting way.

"Yes. She would sleep, and then she would dream about the temple. Twice a week at most. And in her dreams, Tempest would be there, leading her through the grove and through the temple, showing her things."

"That's...unbelievable," Link said.

He found himself wondering how, even as Tara told the story, he seemed even more shaken than she did. Even after all that time she had spent struggling to hide this from him. She sat before him, telling him this story as if it were the most natural thing in the world, while he sat nearly shaking in his chair.

"The problem with it all was that he never said anything to her in the dreams," she continued. "He only showed her things. She used to tell me that it was as if all of her other senses had disappeared, leaving only her sight."

"So that made the 'prophecies' useless," Link guessed.

Here, Tara shrugged and smiled dryly. Sarcastically. Ironically.

"Yeah," she said, "until Nia remembered how much her bookworm of a little sister knew about the world. After that, it was easy as pie to understand her dreams."

"Wait, you mean—?"

"Mhmm. Nia would tell me what she saw, and I would interpret it. She told me every single detail, and I would sit and ponder and look at my equations and my history books. And I always, always, always figured it out. Not to say I always _wanted_ to figure it out."

"Nia _forced_ you to help her interpret the dreams?"

"She convinced herself that understanding the dreams would help her understand how to use the temple to her advantage. But the only way for her to understand the dreams was through me."

Link was finally starting to understand. Why she knew so much about time, about Tempest, why she had let herself become consumed in the pursuit of knowledge.

"It was terrifying for me," Tara said. "I could still see my sister going crazy. The sister that had practically raised me. Except this time, she didn't even see it. She thought that she was perfectly okay—that she was _more_ than okay. I realized later that the prophecies were still part of the same defense mechanism, the same psychological torture. They convinced her that she was making new discoveries, getting closer and closer...but never letting her get there."

"Driving her crazy," he said.

"And all the while, for six long years, my whole soul became ravaged by the idea of the Temple of Time. By the idea of time itself, by the philosophy and the science surrounding it. I lived and breathed time, because my sister lived and breathed time. Of course, by that time, my mother had already died. It was just me and Nia."

"She was dragging you with her," Link mused. "She was driving you crazy, too, wasn't she? Truly crazy."

Tara opened her mouth, as if to respond, but then succumbed to silence. As she did, Tempest appeared beside her, almost out of nowhere. Link furrowed his brow in confusion, completely unaware of how Tempest had returned.

"Tempest? Where were you?" he asked.

"I just took a walk."

"Long walk if you ask me," Tara snorted.

Tempest smiled and began playing with Tara's hair, as he always did in moments of silence or idleness. It continued to make Link uncomfortable.

"I'm here now," he said. "What did you talk about? I didn't think I would find you here when I came back."

"I'm telling Link here how insane you made me," Tara smiled, looking up at him over her shoulder.

Tempest's face scrunched up in what looked to Link like dismay, and his fingers froze where they were in between strands of her dark, violet hair. And then, everything began to shake, and Link knew that it was time. The chasm opened up beneath them, and together, silently, they let themselves fall into his dark maw as Tempest disappeared from view.

This time, instead of him leaving the temple completely, Tempest was waiting for them when they fell, as ungracefully as before, down into the center of the temple. He was sitting by the pedestal, his arms crossed and his eyes closed, looking as if he were sleeping. But Link saw him and knew better. Someone like Tempest certainly did not need to sleep. As Link spread his arms out and just let himself lay there, staring up blankly at the high, dramatic ceiling of the temple, Tara stood up, dropped her bag to the ground, lit her pipe once more. By that point, Link hardly noticed the smell of the smoke. She was pacing with a nervous spring in her step, back and forth, her gaze flashing from Link to Tempest.

"You never finished the story," Link said, without moving.

"Yes I did."

"You said she had those dreams for six years. What happened after that?"

"She died."

Tara said it so matter-of-factly, with such an absence of emotion, that Link was taken aback. He sat up and stared at her, looking for some kind of hint on her face, in her newly open eyes. But there was nothing. She looked the same way she sounded: emotionless. Something had triggered her to withdraw back into herself, like a frightened turtle into its shell, and it didn't look like she was going to come out any time soon.

"Listen, pretty boy, I told you what you asked of me. I told you about how I know Tempest, how I know about your dreams, and how I know so much about the temple. You can't trick me into telling you more."

"I wasn't trying to—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," she sighed, rolling her eyes. Link knew that he had lost this round, and he sat and tried to accept it. "Hey, Tempest."

"Yes?"

"Give us the next clue."

"You were right," he said. He kept his eyes closed.

"Right about what?" Link asked.

"The day, the time, the year, the place. All of it was right."

Link and Tara looked at each other, mouths open and eyes wide.

"You mean..." he began.

"...We found it?" she finished.

Tempest opened his eyes and stood up, graceful and dark and beautiful.

"Yes."

"Damn, we got lucky."

The ring began burning again when Link grabbed it and squeezed, his heart pumping and his skin tingling in pure relief. He thought for a moment that he was going to faint, for he became dizzy and the world began turning in the midst of such incredible...happiness? Sadness? He wasn't entirely sure. He fell onto his back once more, closed his eyes, saw Zelda's face there. She was suddenly so close, so attainable. That smile, the glimmer in her eyes, the touch of her skin...for the first time since she had died, Link truly felt as if he could see it all again. Bring her back to this world that had so cruelly torn her from him—no. That she had so cruelly left.

_It's actually going to work,_ he thought. _I'm going to win this game and bring her back._

"All we have to do now is go back and figure out what we need to change," Tara breathed. "And we still have so much time."

_Maybe I don't have to die..._

"About two days," Tempest said.

_Is that even fair?_

Link was still reeling, unable to fully participate in the conversation. Unfamiliar thoughts were running through his head. But maybe, just maybe, those thoughts had been there all along. He just hadn't realized it. Link wasn't just thinking about Zelda's life anymore—he was thinking about his death. About what the balance was between life and death. If things went as planned, he was going to bring back her life without any sacrifices.

Was that fair?

Zelda had given her life for his. Had let herself die because she knew it was to ensure his life. And here he was, laying on the floor of the Temple of Time, inches away from just bringing her back.

_I haven't lost anything, then._

_ Is it fair?_

For the first time, Link truly wanted his own death.

As payment.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Zelda's voice erupted like a volcano inside his mind. Screaming, crying, seeping through every crevice and corner and empty space. And the ring was now even hotter than fire against his skin. But he didn't move. He lay, let the voice fill his head, and let the ring burn into his flesh.

_I'm going to keep my promise,_ he thought.

"I say we sleep," Tara said. "We have time, and I'm exhausted."

"Yeah..." Link sighed.

Without bothering to ask his permission, Tara reached into his things and grabbed one of the blankets that he had packed. She spread it out on the floor and sat down, smoking until the pipe was out and only the stench remained in the air. Link did not sit up. He simply lay where he was. In the heavy silence, Tempest stood up from where he was at the pedestal and moved to the blanket, where he sat down beside Tara. Link saw her offer him a chocolate. But instead of taking it from her, he opened his mouth, and waited until she placed the chocolate inside of it herself. Practically cringing, Link turned is back to them.

"Hey, before you sleep, you still owe me something," Tara called.

"I was hoping you had forgotten."

"Don't insult me. We made a deal. Now tell me about Zelda. About why you want to bring her back so badly. And none of this love bullshit, all right?"

"A lot of it has to do with love, you know."

"But not all."

Link was starting to get frustrated. With her tone, the way she was trapping him, the fact that he was forced to tell her. And also with himself, for he was starting to realize that (once again) Tara was right. But he didn't want to admit that he wanted to bring Zelda back for reasons other than his undying love for her. He wasn't questioning his love...but he was questioning the other emotions running rampant in his heart. He needed to be moving. He stood up, taking off his shield and sword and laying them on the ground. As he walked, he took off his hat and the over-shirt and chainmail of his tunic as well, because he was sweating like a pig.

"You keep calling it a burden," Tara said. "I understand, more than most people, how difficult the death of a loved one can be. But there's a reason you keep calling it a 'burden.'"

"Yeah."

It was as if she were reading his mind, and that made him even more fidgety. But, in a way, it made it easier to talk to her. She was with him every step of the way. Even as she sat there beside Tempest, their crossed legs brushing, chewing their pieces of chocolate. Link kept pacing, kept fiddling with the ring around his neck.

"All right, how about we do this," she sighed. "Tell me how she died. That'll be a good place to start."

_I died to save you,_ Zelda said in his mind. _Tell her that. Tell her._

"We...we were fighting the Source."

"Ah yes. The famous final battle. Well, the second final battle, anyway. It was all over the papers."

"What did the papers say about it?" he asked. After what had happened, he hadn't bothered to check. He had tried to block it all from his mind.

"Nothing detailed. They talked about the secret entrance in Kakariko Village, the dramatic battle underground. And, of course, the death of Princess Zelda. But nobody actually knows what happened down there."

"I refused to talk to the reporters."

"Understandable."

"I wanted it all behind me..."

"But that was impossible, huh? So tell me, Mr. Hero. What _did_ happen down there?"

"It was terrifying," he said. "So, so terrifying."

"Wow, you're actually speaking like a normal human being now. You're not afraid of being afraid."

"I was afraid for _her_," Link hissed. "Not for me."

"Fear is fear."

He froze and looked over at her, feeling much too shivery and fidgety for comfort. She had a smirk on her lips and her eyebrows were raised.

"Right?"

"Right," he grumbled. Then, he started pacing again. "I was afraid. I didn't think we were going to get out alive, to be honest. But I wanted more than anything for us to live. She made me a promise."

"Sounds a bit shallow, huh, Mr. Valiant Knight?" She pursed her lips. "Wanting the princess to live so you can get your reward?"

Her words were making him furious. He whirled around, fists tight and teeth clenched. He could feel himself rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

"She promised me she would _marry_ me," he seethed. "That we were going to be together. Forever. She would be mine and I would be hers."

Tara blinked her now wide eyes, his words having silenced her. Tempest's expression had not changed since Link had begun talking. Stoic, calm, content with anything and everything. That made Link angry, too.

"I-I'm sorry," she finally stuttered. "I had no idea."

"I made her a promise, too," he said, turning back around.

The tears were rising again, and he forced them back down again. He didn't even want to close his eyes because he knew that in that momentary darkness, Zelda's face would appear, like a dream. A terrible, wonderful dream, that could have just as easily been a nightmare.

"What was your promise?" she whispered.

"I promised that I would protect her."

"But she died. That's why you want to bring her back."

"No."

"No? That's not why you feel burdened?"

"I mean, yes. But it's more than that."

"Tell me. It's okay."

"I'm just holding up my end of the deal."

"Link, it's not about that anymore."

Her voice had become motherly, comforting in a way that confused him. He turned around to see her standing, a concerned expression making her face look angelic. The soft tone in her voice and warm shimmer in her eyes made his heart feel at ease. Zelda's voice was much more subdued, less like terrible shrieking in his ears. Echoing, constantly.

"You need to talk about it," she continued. "It's crushing you. Trust me, I know how that feels."

"How could you _possibly_ know how it feels?" he laughed.

"Just tell me, Link. Just tell me," she repeated, unfazed at his outburst.

Link stood for a few moments, huffing and puffing and unable to comprehend the situation in which he'd found himself. He was standing, soothed by Tara's voice while driven to insanity by Zelda's voice (or was it the other way around? He wasn't really sure).

"During the battle, we were...the monster was...she..."

He could hardly bring the words out, now that he was trying to. He realized, at that moment, that he had never truly talked to anybody about this. It was the first time since her death—her sacrifice—that he was trying to come to terms with what had truly happened.

"It's okay, Link. It's okay."

Tara was close to him now. If he had reached his hand out, he could have touched her face. There was the smallest, most gentle smile tugging on the corners of her lips. It was a strange side of her, the same he had seen with Luda back at Renado's house. A sisterly, motherly expression.

_Of course,_ he thought. _She spent years taking care of her sister and mother. _

He took a deep breath, inhaled the natural toxins of the monstrous temple. And when he opened his mouth next, the words came rushing out.

"The monster was going to kill me. But she pushed me out of the way, and even though _I_ was supposed to die...she died. She sacrificed herself for me."

Tara's face fell.

"Link, I—"

Now that he had started, Link just couldn't stop.

"You know, she told me that she made that sacrifice so that I don't have to make any more sacrifices," he said, "so that I can live my life in peace. But how the _hell_ am I supposed to live my life in peace knowing the price? Knowing that I am alive, in this hell called peace, because the one person I loved died?"

Tara looked almost as shaken as he felt. Her entire body trembled, and tears had collected on the surfaces of her eyes. Behind her, like a shadow, Tempest had stood from his seat and come up behind her. Link could hardly register her expression, her body language, her terror, the darkness of Tempest's face, through his rage. It was uncontrollable now.

"I loved her so much. More than anything I've ever loved before. And I promised her that I would protect her. But what did I do instead? I took her life. I took it right from her heart."

"You didn't take—"

"And now I have this burden on my shoulders, on my chest, deep inside me, that I have to carry with me wherever I go. The burden of knowing that her death was the price of my life."

"Stop it. Stop it right now."

Tara's voice was icy. The tears had disappeared, and she was staring at the ground. As if holding herself back—as Link should have been doing. But he couldn't. The dam had broken.

"My life really isn't worth anything now that she's dead," he continued. He was hardly aware of what he was saying. "Nothing. I should be the one who's dead. I deserve to die."

_"Stop it!"_

Before he could register Tara's movements, she brought her arm as far back as possible, stared at him with frighteningly wrathful eyes, and slapped him across the face with every ounce of power she had.


	30. To Save a Reckless Hero's Arse

**Chapter Thirty has arrived. Read and enjoy and comment!**

**...I am getting desperate to finish posting this. **

**Desperate.**

* * *

Chapter Thirty: To Save a Reckless Hero's Arse

As pain stung his skin, his head snapped to the side and he stumbled back from the force of the blow. Tears sprang to his eyes and he lifted his fingers to touch his cheek, tingling and undoubtedly red. He could hardly understand what had just happened, couldn't remember the words he had spoken to warrant such a violent response. When, with blurry eyesight, he looked over at Tara, her state made him even more terrified. Her entire body heaved with her pants, both of her hands were clenched into tight fists, her eyes were like shimmering pits of anger, wrath, pain. So much pain. But he was feeling pain too, he reminded himself. Strands of her dark violet hair fell from her braid, like shadows over her suddenly pale face. Behind her, Tempest still stood. His own face was as dark, as unflinching as night itself. The single, fiery red streak in Tara's hair shined like fire from a light that, in his current state of mind, Link could not identify. All he could do was stand and stare at her, dumbstruck, jaw dropped. Touching his fingertips to his tender skin.

"Wha—?"

"Don't you _ever_ say something like that," she hissed, her voice trembling. "And don't you _ever_ think it, you son of a bitch. It's not your fault. It wasn't then, it's not now, and it never will be, you hear?"

Link scrambled to remember what exactly he had said. And then he remembered. He had been telling Tara that he deserved to die for what he had done—or rather, what he had failed to do. Broken promises were not something a hero could live with.

"But she died for me," he whispered. "Shouldn't I die for her?"

"Stop it!"

Tara reached her hand up, as if to slap him again with even more force. Link prepared himself for the blow. But before it came, Tempest reached up and grabbed her arms, holding her back.

"Shh," he murmured. Wordless. Tara struggled in his grasp, but it was the kind of struggle that was resigned. Accepting. "Shh."

"Zelda was wrong," she said quietly.

Her words caught him completely off-guard, to the point that he was angry...but had no words to express it.

"She...what?"

"What she did was wrong," Tara spat. Even as Link narrowed his eyes, looked straight into hers, was all too aware of the rage rising within him, she stood her ground. "Dying for you was wrong."

"Wrong? _Wrong?"_

"For some reason, people think that dying for someone is the best way to show your love. That your sacrifice is the perfect representation. That it's romantic or something. But that's wrong."

"How dare you?" he seethed. "She sacrificed herself for me."

"_Look at what it's done to you!"_ she screamed. A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek.

Her outburst made him flinch, and she began struggling harder. But Tempest continued holding her back. Still without a word, watching the events unfurl.

"It's made you wish for your own _death!_ What good has it done you? Given you a life that you hate to live? She didn't leave you with love, or peace, or happiness. Tell me, Mr. Hero, what did she leave you with? How did her sacrifice benefit you?"

Link opened his mouth to respond, but could find nothing within the storm of thoughts, of emotions, running through his body. There was only confusion, rage, sorrow, and a terrible longing to love Zelda. A longing to love her as she had loved him. To save her, with blood, sacrifice.

"She left you with a burden," Tara continued. The tears had spilled over her eyes and ran down her cheeks, large and consistent. As if she had been holding them back for years, and only now were they breaking through. "A terrible burden. The worst feeling in the world is that of wanting death. If you want death, then what is life worth?"

All of the energy seeped out of him and he withdrew into himself, to a place that he didn't know existed inside. There was a lot of emptiness there. So much emptiness, longing. Sad emotions running back and forth in that infinite emptiness. Seeing Tara's tears, seeing her slouching in Tempest's grasp, feeling himself decaying, hearing Zelda's voice like bells in his ears...it was all so very tiring.

"Zelda loves me, doesn't she?" he asked. Like a young boy asking his mother a question.

At that, Tara sighed and looked away. Tempest finally let go of her arms. But Link stayed where he was, determined to get an answer.

"Doesn't she?"

"Yes," Tara finally said. Her voice was exhausted, dense and sullen as it filled the vast air within the temple. It echoed off the walls in the same way that a scream of anguish might. "Of course she does. But don't forget that there are people here, now, in _this_ life, who love you, too."

Without another word, without even looking at him again, Tara lie down on the blanket that she had spread out, put her back to the both of them, and went to sleep. Leaving Link to ponder why she had slapped him, what her words meant, and why Zelda's voice had become so soft in his head.

* * *

"Oh my, the poor dear. He looks simply awful," a female council member said.

_Do I look that bad? They can't even see my face, for gods' sake._

"And just listen to his voice! What could have brought on such an illness?"

"He's fine," Ashei jumped in. "Well, not fine. But he should recover soon enough. Right, Link?"

"Y-yes," Shad said, trying as hard as possible to lower his voice. "I just need to rest."

He covered as much of himself as possible with the blanket and felt himself begin to sweat, as the sunlight from the window was positioned to land right upon the bed. He was sweltering, but could not move. Could barely breathe without the worry of being found out. He tried to think of things that Link might say in a situation like this. Something demanding, probably. Something to make himself seem brave or healthy.

"Just...just leave me be, and I'll recover perfectly well!"

The response was silence.

_Hmm. Maybe I overdid it._

"Oh my, he appears to be sweating terribly," the same council member then pointed out. "Poor dear must be sweltering under that cover. And that scarf! Master Link, let me remove that scarf. It will make you feel much better, I assure you."

His eyes widened as he heard footsteps begin to approach the bed.

_What do I do? What do I do?_

"Um, I don't know if that's such a good idea, yeah?" Ashei stuttered. The footsteps stopped for a moment.

"Why not? It will make him a bit cooler."

"It's a bad idea because...well, because—"

"From what we can tell, the illness originates from the hair!" Auru interjected. "That's why we've covered his head with a scarf."

Shad covered his mouth with the blanket to stifle any laughter that threatened to slip from his lips. As he heard murmurs of concern erupting among the council members, he questioned how they could even believe such evident bullshit. He could imagine the expressions on Auru and Ashei's faces.

_From the hair? Like lice? Really?_

"Well, at least let us check," the same council member said.

_Damn it. _

The footsteps continued toward the bed, even as Ashei and Auru tried their hardest to (discreetly) dissuade her. Shad was starting to panic again.

_Oh goodness, what would Link do?_

_ Certainly not let anyone touch him..._

_ Probably be fairly dramatic about it._

The footsteps were getting closer and closer. So, Shad decided to put on a performance. It was the only thing he could think to do, and the only thing that might have remotely been representative of a sick and delusional Link.

"Water!" he cried, flinging his arms in the air. He heard gasps of surprise, followed by complete silence. "I need water!"

"Master—"

"_WATER!" _

Just to add some dramatic effect, he clutched his stomach and let out a load, emphatic groan.

"Of course, of course! Somebody get him water!"

Then he heard scrambling, people whispering, a door opening and a door closing.

"He certainly does look ill," an older member sighed. "We're sorry to have doubted you, Auru and Ashei."

"Don't think twice about it," Auru replied. "You work for the good of the kingdom."

"Just don't be so hardheaded next time, yeah?" Ashei snorted. "Why would we lie to you about something like this anyway?"

_Oh, I don't know, to save a reckless hero's arse?_

He curled up in bed, nearly drowning in his own sweat and eagerly awaiting the moment that he could put his clothes back on, take off his scarf, and stop acting like an overdramatic prince. After a few moments, filled with discomfort, the door opened and a couple of people scuttled in.

"We brought you water, Master Link," they said, moving toward him.

Then Shad realized that he hadn't truly thought out the plan. There was no way he'd be able to take the water without them seeing his face.

_More dramatic flare?_

"Ashei!" he screamed, surprising them all again. "Bring me the water!"

"Y-yes, Link."

He stayed where he was, his bare back to them. He heard Ashei making her way around the bed, until she was standing right in front of him with a glass of water. She kneeled beside him, a smirk on her lips, while she brought the water to his lips.

"A little overdramatic, yeah?" she whispered in his ear.

_And I thought it couldn't get any hotter..._

"Link is a little overdramatic though, isn't he?" he replied, swallowing down the water.

She shrugged, her smirk still making him sweat even more. Then she did something strange. Something that Shad wasn't really expecting. She touched his forehead with the back of her hand, and then stroked his cheek with her very fingertips. Her smile was unwavering, her eyes glistening.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he murmured.

Ashei shrugged again. And, for the first time since he had met her, Shad could have sworn he saw her blushing. Her cheeks were bright and pink.

"You're just really beautiful," she said.

He blinked, taken off-guard.

"When you're caught up in everything, you forget the little things. The important things, I think," she continued.

"Ashei, I—"

"Shh, just drink your water. Auru and I will get them out of here, yeah?"

He smiled back, wanting more than anything to kiss her.

"Yeah."

* * *

Link couldn't sleep. But he wasn't kept awake by the musings of Zelda this night—he was kept awake by his own frightened, confused, enraged musings. By the words that Tara had spat at his feet, burrowed down into his soul and uprooted everything about which he had once been so certain. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Temple of Time, fidgeting with the ring around his neck as Tara slept. But there was still another shadow, pacing in circles around the pedestal. Tempest would not sleep. He would not lie down. He would not look at Link, would not speak to him. They sat in dark, uncomfortable silence, while Link tried to understand Tara's outburst.

_She said that it's not my fault..._

_ But then whose fault is it? _

_ Don't I deserve to die?_

Those thoughts, those words that he had spoken, had set something off inside of her. They had seemingly brought her closer to insanity than she had ever been, made her scream and shout and slap him. As if he had insulted her rather than wished for his own death.

Suddenly, without warning, Tempest froze in his spot and looked over at Link. The look in his eyes was darker than he had ever seen it before. It sent tremors of fear through his very soul, until Link had to look down at his lap.

"You should sleep," he said. "You're tired."

"I'm always tired. But I can never sleep."

"Even Tara is sleeping."

"I'm not Tara."

"No, you certainly are not," he scoffed. "You don't value life the way she does."

With narrowed eyes, Link looked back up at Tempest. Straight into his eyes.

"I don't _value life?_ Why do you think I'm doing this? Don't you dare try to tell me that I don't value life."

"Tell me, hero. Do you know why Tara was angry with you?"

Tempest began walking forward, forward, forward, until he stood right in front of Link. Tall and dark and menacing.

"Because I'm willing to die," Link hissed.

"No," Tempest smiled. "Because you want to die."

The words rang so true, so hard in Link's heart, that he had to look away once more and look back inside himself. As he grasped that ring, burning like fire as it always did, he tried to unravel the ropes in his head. He tried to define what it was that he wanted, how he was going to get it...why he wanted it.

_Is she right?_

_ Is it really rage?_

He wanted to believe that he was doing this out of love. No, he _did_ believe that he was doing this out of love. He loved Zelda more than anything, and with her, he had finally found happiness and peace of mind. She had given him something real, something solid, something that he could truly grasp and relish. Now that she was gone, all he had was this burden. He might as well have killed her himself, with his own bare hands. For when he looked down at them, they were smeared with blood. As red as red could be.

"Stand up, hero," Tempest ordered.

"Why?"

"I want to show you something."

His eyes were blurry from exhaustion and tears, and his limbs were shaking, but he stood up anyway. Tempest had taken a position in the very center of the temple and was reaching his hand out. Even in the darkness of the night, Link could see the soft smiling playing on his lips.

"Give me the pocket watch."

Link gave him the pocket watch. Tempest opened it and, with inhuman speed, moved the ridges until he was satisfied. Then he reached his hand out once more.

"Grab my hand."

"Where are we going?"

"Five years, three months, two days from today, 11:32 PM."

"Why?"

"There's something important you need to see."

Link was nervous, doubtful, scared, confused, and angry. But there was something on Tempest's face, something in his innocent smile, something in the darkness in his eyes and the scratches on his palms that made Link trust him. Why, he could not say. It was something intangible that pushed him forward, made it possible for him to lay his hand in Tempest's without asking any more questions. As Tempest held the pocket watch and let it swing, muttering under his breath, Link glanced at Tara once more. She was on her back, her thick hair spread out beneath her as she slept. Her body rose and fell with her deep, slumber-filled breathing. It was the first time, he thought, that he had ever seen her look peaceful. Only when she slept. And he wondered if he were like that, too.

_No,_ he decided. _I'm not peaceful even when I sleep._

Then, not knowing where he was going or why and grabbing Tempest's hand, Link was whisked away by the winds of time.

When he felt his feet touch down upon the ground, his eyes fluttered open, and his hand fell from Tempest's. They were surrounded by the vast darkness of night, except for the few lights that lined the street.

"East Road," he muttered. "Why are we here?"

"Just follow me. Quickly."

Tempest turned and began walking hurriedly, down the dark streets paved with shadows. Link stumbled after him, his stomach churning in anxiety and nervousness. He was physically and mentally left in the dark, with no idea why Tempest had brought him to this place and stumbling across stones that he had once known so well. Castle Town, he thought, had changed immensely in five years. As he grew more and more lost in his own thoughts, Tempest stopped in front of a building that looked familiar to Link. He stood on the front steps, looking up and searching his brain, while Tempest opened the door and began walking up the steps. Just then, Link noticed a number etched into the door. Five.

_East Road. Fifth Building...Sixth floor._

Tempest was leading Link up to Tara's apartment. Or at least, the apartment she lived in during the present. But at that moment, Link had no idea what it was. He had let himself be dragged this far; he was going to follow through. He followed Tempest up the stairs, up until they stood in front of the only door on the sixth floor. They heard someone screaming, a female voice. But the words were muffled by the closed door.

"Be quiet now," Tempest warned.

He gave Link one last look, and in that one look, Link saw more emotion than he had ever seen Tempest display. Sadness, sympathy...regret? Then, as silent as a soft breeze, he grabbed the doorknob and opened it just slightly. He gestured for Link to step forward, to glance through the cracks at the ominous light seeping through.

Inside, he saw two girls. One looked to be about fifteen, with long dark hair. The other looked to be in her early twenties, but her hair was long and blonde—so blonde that it was almost white. He could not see the older girl's face, for she was kneeling in the center of the room with her back to the door. Facing the open window. But even as young as she was, Link could recognize the face of the younger girl anywhere.

_Taralisse._

She was screaming, pacing, while the other girl simply sat.

"Why won't you ever listen to me? I'm trying to help you!"

"I'm beyond help now, Taralisse."

The girl's voice was soft, sullen, resigned. As if she were saying something that made her tired, something that she had said too many times before.

"_Nobody_ is beyond help!"

"There's no way we're ever going to figure it out," the older girl continued, "and that's driving me crazy."

"N-no, Nia, don't say that, you're not crazy."

"He's driving me crazy."

"We'll figure it out together, okay? You and me. We'll figure out the temple. We'll figure out time. We'll figure it all out, I promise."

The desperation in Tara's voice was the only thing Link could hear.

"We keep saying that," Nia said. "But we're not going to figure it out."

"Yes we are! We just need to keep trying."

"I can't keep trying, Taralisse. I can't keep trying. The dreams...the way time continues to elude me...I can't do it anymore. I can't do any of it anymore."

"St-stop it, please—"

"I'm never going to figure it out. And I can't live like that. I don't want to."

It was only at that moment, shaking as he stood by the door, that Link saw something shimmering in the older girl's hand.

It was a knife.

"_Nia, please!" _

"I don't want to live with it anymore. And I don't want you to live with it anymore."

"Please, listen to me—"

"I want to free you from this," Nia said. "I want you to finally live a normal life."

The girl lifted the knife, and Link's heart dropped. He watched, in what seemed to be slow-motion, as the young Tara screamed a bloodcurdling scream. Lunged forward, reached out her hands. Nia held the knife to her chest, took a deep breath...

"_TARALISSE!" _Link screamed.

Before he could see anything else, he felt Tempest grab his arms and pull him away with jarring force. The door closed on them, leaving Link panting, muttering incoherently to himself, struggling to get out of Tempest's grasp.

"We need to go," Tempest said.

"T-Taralisse," he murmured. "I can't leave her, she—"

He heard another scream from behind the door.

"Then don't," Tempest replied. "She's waiting for you in the present. Let's go."

Even though the two hours weren't up, even though Link could barely see straight, even though he wanted to stay with her...the winds of time came once again, summoned by the guardian beside him, and they returned to the present.

* * *

**GOSH you finally know the story now. Took long enough, amirite? **


	31. Hatred to Forgiveness

**I actually hate this chapter. Well, I guess I should say that I hated writing it. Too sappy. But, you all can be the judge of that. **

**I also want to thank those of you who comment-****very, very much. Your feedback is so valuable, you have no idea. To be honest, I'm probably not going to make any changes to this story because it has already drained so much out of me (and I've lost hope for it), but your critiques are so helpful in my growth as a writer for the future. Keep 'em coming, friends!**

**Enjoy, lovelies, enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-One: Hatred to Forgiveness

When the room had finally emptied, Shad felt that he could breathe again. He sat up in bed and ripped the scarf from his head. Then, almost weighed down by his own sweat, he stood (still only in his underwear) and threw open the window. The breeze that blew in was refreshing, perfect, made it easier for him to breathe in and breathe out. Ashei and Auru stood at the door, having closed it, and had taken on expressions of pure relief.

"Thank Nayru that's over," Auru sighed.

"I thought they'd never leave!" she added.

"Good performance you put on there, Shad, mah boi."

"You don't think I overdid it?"

"Of course you did," Ashei laughed. "But they bought it, so it doesn't matter."

They fell into laughter together, and Shad sat back down on the bed. He still couldn't really see anything with the lack of his glasses, but he didn't truly care. The amount of relief inside him drowned out any other emotions, to the point that he could only smile and look at Ashei (even though he couldn't really see her).

"I'll go check on them, make sure everything is as it should be," Auru said.

His tone was knowing, and Shad could only imagine the smile that had spread across his face as he walked out of the room. Shad and Ashei were left alone.

"Ashei, darling, would you fetch my glasses for me?"

She stood silently for a few moments, far enough that she was merely a blur to him, before responding.

"No."

"N-no?"

"No."

"I can't see anything, you know."

He wasn't lying; he really couldn't see anything. But even so, he could clearly tell what Ashei was doing. She was standing at the door, as he sat half naked on the bed, and she began taking off her own clothes. As he watched (as well as he could), Shad expected himself to become uncomfortable. To become anxious, embarrassed, nervous. But those familiar emotions did not come. Instead, he felt serene. He felt tranquil, as if just being near her calmed his nerves. Everything in the room became warm in the most soothing way, everything was bright and the breeze was soft. In the midst of it all, in the midst of that beautiful atmosphere that made Shad feel the most grateful he had ever felt before, stood the angel of it all. Her clothes were in a pile at her feet now, so she began walking toward him.

"Can you see me now?" she murmured, climbing onto the bed beside him.

"Like a dream," he responded.

She put her cool palms against his chest and her legs around him. Breathing in, he reached forward and places his hands on her cheeks. She let her face lean into his palms, closed her eyes, breathed in.

"You truly are a dream, my darling," he sighed.

"But I'm right here..."

"The most amazing thing I've ever seen."

She opened her eyes and leaned forward until their foreheads touched, and he could feel her breath against his lips. He moved his hands to her neck and let himself fall back against the bed. But he refused, and his body refused, to let himself move any farther from her. This moment, he felt, was too perfect. Truly like a dream.

"How did I get so lucky?" he asked with a smile.

Ashei smiled back, then pressed her lips to his nose. Moved them gently to his cheek, down to his jawbone, to his chin, until she finally let them rest against his lips. He breathed in her touch, felt it seep into him, held her more tightly. Finally, she pulled away, but only enough to reply to him.

"I was just wondering the same thing. Hey, Shad?"

"Yes, Ashei?"

"What was it you said to me last night?"

"I love you."

"Say it again."

Shad held her face so that he could gaze into her eyes. The expression in them was so sweet, so gentle, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He kept his gaze unwavering.

"I love you, Ashei. I love you."

She smiled her breathtaking smile.

"I love you, too."

Then together, they fell into the kind of bliss that only lovers can feel.

* * *

Link opened his eyes and he was back in the temple. Tempest stood beside him, still grasping his arm with that same grave expression. Link lifted his hands and looked down at them, and saw that they were shaking. In fact, his entire soul was still shaking from the scene he had just witnessed, a scene that changed his perspective on so much. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something moving. He turned to look and saw Tara sitting up, watching him with eyes wide open. Her hair fell in thick, tangled strands along her back, there were bags under her eyes, and her cheeks were stained with tears that seemed as if they had been there for a while. A whole lifetime. The expression on her face was devastatingly sad.

"Taralisse..."

"You saw it," she whispered, "didn't you?"

Instead of answering, Link stepped closer. Closer, and closer, and closer, until he was right in front of her. Then he got on his knees, looked into her eyes for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around her. At first she was stiff, surprised at his actions; but soon, she relaxed in his arms. She let her head lean against his and breathed out all of the tension she had been hiding. It rushed out and left her body limp, her eyes droopy, and her mind exhausted. And in response, Link tightened his grip.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I get it now. That you understand my burden."

"I carry the same one, after all."

He pulled away and held her at arm's length so that he could look at her face. There was a soft smile on her lips and a glimmer, a faint glimmer, representing hope in her eyes.

"You should never want to die," she said. "There are people alive who love you, who care about you, who would do anything to see you happy. Leaving them will only cause them pain. I know that, and you know that. All too well."

He was silent. Her smile still soft, gentle, comforting, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. Then, without Link even realizing, tears began running down his cheeks.

"You shouldn't die for someone," she continued. "You should live for someone."

* * *

Tara hugged her knees to her chest and watched Tempest run his fingers along the Pedestal of Time. He looked enamored by it, absolutely fascinated—as if it were something he didn't understand, but desperately wanted to. Link had fallen asleep, but it was a silent, deep sleep. One that almost made it seem as if he were dead. She glanced at his face, closed eyes and slightly open mouth. For the first time since she had met him, he didn't seem like he was having nightmares. Tara leaned her cheek on her knees and took a deep breath, just to feel the liberation pounding in her chest. In the silence, Tempest looked at her. That look, burrowing through her eyes and into her soul, had recently acquired the ability to make her want to scream. Why, she still had no clue.

"Hi," he said with a smile.

"Hi."

He walked from the pedestal and sat down beside her, mimicking her position. Tara looked at his face closely, examined each individual part. Bright green eyes, dark and innocent and beautiful and frightening all at the same time. Deep skin with an orange hue, as if the light were passing straight through him. Lips curved into the most ambivalent smile, a smile with no definition. But the kind of smile that could give butterflies if given to the right person. Strands of his red hair fell across his face, casting shadow upon shadow until they were dancing across his features. So many different emotions in one face, so much beauty and suffering and pain.

"Thank you, Tempest."

"For what?"

"Showing him. I wouldn't have been strong enough to do it."

Tempest shrugged and reached forward. His scarred fingertips grazed her cheek, and his smile grew a little bit warmer. It shined like a sun through the darkness, spread to become her own smile. His touch was hot and cold all at the same time.

"Both you and I understand the value that there is in loving life," he said. "I wanted to show Link. Just so that maybe he could understand, too."

"You know what I don't understand, though?"

"What?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Sometimes you're like a child who doesn't know anything," she laughed. "Other times, you're old and wise and have a look of being ancient about you. Sometimes you're dark, brooding, cruel. Other times you're gentle, innocent, kindhearted."

Tempest smiled and continued stroking her cheek.

"There's something I don't understand, too," he said.

"What's that?"

"I have this feeling inside of my chest. It's really heavy, not like anything I've ever felt before. Every time I look into your eyes, I get that feeling. But I don't know what it means. To be completely honest with you, I don't know what any of the feelings mean."

Tara's fingers were shaking when she lifted her hand and grasped his fingers. Tightly, desperately.

"I don't think I'm supposed to feel very much," he sighed. "So when I do, and it's this heavy and hard to carry, I guess...I just don't know what to do."

He suddenly looked scared, lost, completely alone in a place he had never been. It was the first time Tara felt true sympathy, true sadness when she looked at him. She felt a desire to comfort him, to catch his tears as they fell. She felt, above all, a desire to understand him. For it was the first time that Tara found herself curious about who he was—who he _truly_ was. His past, his present, his future. What it all meant.

It was also the first time she felt such a strong desire to kiss someone.

"I have trouble with emotions too, sometimes," she said. "It's okay to feel, though. You just have to tell yourself that."

"But what if it's not?" he whispered.

Tara turned so that she was facing him. She put both of her hands on his cheeks, stroked the spots beneath his eyes with the corners of her thumb.

"Then it's not," she murmured. "But you just have to let yourself feel anyway."

Tara released everything she had been holding inside at that moment. That moment when she leaned forward, paused as she stood on the very edge of desire. Her entire body tingled, to the point that she thought she was going to fall apart right then and there. But she stepped over the edge and she kissed him.

She kissed him hard, and tried to remember every single detail of the emotions and the feelings dancing inside her. Bliss and fear and happiness and sadness and love and hatred. All of the emotions that we, as humans, try so desperately to experience in one lifetime; she was experiencing them all in one moment. Tempest, however, was still, so she pulled away to look into his eyes. She could see tears.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I-I...I don't know what to do."

Tara inched closer until her lips hovered above his, until she couldn't tell her breathing from his. She exhaled and touched her palms to his bare chest, waiting for him to inhale. But he was holding his breath.

"Breathe, Tempest. Breathe."

He obeyed, and his body relaxed a little bit. Then, with his own hands shaking and his movements uncertain, he lifted his hands and put them at the base of her neck. He stroked her skin with his thumbs as his heavy breathing became more even.

"There you go," she smiled. "Just relax."

"It felt so nice," he whispered. "Can you kiss me again?"

Tara pressed her lips to his once more, but this time, he held her. He truly held her. He let himself breathe into her, let himself bring her closer and press himself against her. As Tara—having lost control of her actions—slipped his jacket from his shoulders, he began running his fingers through her hair. Undoing her tangles while she traced patterns on his skin. They were becoming one and the same, warm and loving and bursting with desire.

"Tara," he mumbled in between hungry kisses.

"Hmm."

"I'm sorry."

She pulled away as shockwaves ran through her body. She stared at him with her mouth open and her eyes wide, hardly able to comprehend what he had just said. There was a rock in her stomach, twisting and turning.

"You're sorry?"

The tears were rushing down his face now. But still, through it all, there was a smile on his face. He nodded, vigorously.

"I'm so sorry. I'm not sure what it means that I'm sorry. All I know is that I am."

This time, it was Tara who didn't know what to do, what to make of her emotions. But she decided to take her own advice. She just let herself feel, she breathed, she let the tears flow as she kissed him again. His words were ringing in her ears like loud, desperate echoes.

Tara thought that she was going to explode. Breathing the same air as him, sharing the same space, the same skin, the same soul. She was pouring everything she had into him. And then she realized, she remembered, the hatred she had for him. The reason he had apologized. He had driven her sister insane, had driven _her_ insane. She poured that hatred into him, too. She poured her hatred, poured it out...

Until she found that there was only forgiveness left.

* * *

Link had a dreamless sleep for the first time since Zelda's death. When he woke up, he felt refreshed, determined, and prepared. He knew that today was the day—the day that he would bring her back. Would look into her eyes and tell her exactly what Tara had said to him: that he wanted her to live for him, not die for him. When he sat up, his back and neck aching from the hard floor of the temple, his entire body was tingling with anticipation. The rays of the morning sun poured in through the windows, making him squint as he stood and began getting dressed. He put on his chain mail, the tunic, armed himself with his sword and shield. Then he saw something that, in a way, he had been expecting. There, on the floor of the temple a few feet away, lay Tara and Tempest. She was fast asleep in his arms, while he held her and stared at the ceiling.

"Good morning, hero," he said.

"Good morning."

"Huh? What?"

Tara's eyes opened and she shot up, looking around in a daze. Tempest sat up on his elbows, smiling as she wiped the drool from the side of her mouth and struggled to reorient herself.

"Good morning, Taralisse," Link said.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

As he should have anticipated, Tara was acting as if nothing had happened. She was back to her feisty self, trying to deal with her mane of hair and lighting her pipe even though she had only just woken up. Link sat back down and concentrated on breathing, in and out, in and out. Just to relax himself a little bit in the face of the journey that was to come with the rising sun.

"Are you ready, Link?" Tempest asked. He had stood up and put his jacket on, which had been lying in a heap on the floor. Link had tried to ignore that fact.

"Actually, yeah," he said. "I am."

"Then let's do it."

Tempest flashed Link a strange, almost encouraging smile. Something about him had definitely changed. He was lighter on his feet, more natural in his mannerisms. And when he looked over at Tara, there was a look of complete and utter affection in his eyes. He held the pocket watch in his hand and stood in his position, but he never took his eyes off Tara. Even worse was the way she stared back at him. As she put the pipe between her lips, breathed in, then lifted it, she kept glancing his way. There was a smirk on her mouth, a strange shimmer in her eyes. Something inside her that Link hadn't seen before.

_I don't even want to know what happened while I was asleep._

He walked up beside Tempest and watched as he reset the pocket watch.

"Link, take a smoke."

"I don't need one."

"Then you don't understand the magnitude of what we're doing," she insisted. Before he could protest anymore, she stuck the pipe in between his lips. "Take a smoke."

"I understand perfectly well."

"Then you know that after today, after you bring her back, everything is going to change."

He paused. Her words really started to sink in at that moment. That after this, everything would change. Absolutely everything.

"Wait, Tempest, I have a question," he said in between puffs of smoke.

"Yes?"

"Will...will we remember that this happened?"

Tempest looked away, fiddling with the pocket watch in his anxious fingers.

"Only you and Tara will. And me, of course. But I guess I don't really count."

There was an awkward silence after that. Then, Tara grabbed the pipe directly from Link's mouth and took a deep drag.

_Good way to deal with your stress, Taralisse._

"All right, if you're ready, let's just get this over with."

"Okay. Let's."

Holding his breath, feeling the ring burn against his chest, Link took the pocket watch from Tempest and began the ritual.

_Don't worry, Zelda. _

_ I'm coming for you._


	32. Caretaker

**Weeeeeeeeeeee three chapters left! **

**A bit of a chaotic chapter right hur, but I don't mind it too much. Super fun to write. **

**Enjoy friends! Let me know what you think!**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Two: Caretaker

For the third time, their feet touched upon the Temple of Time of two hundred years ago. Before letting go of Link's hand, Tara squeezed it hard, and flashed him a smile. Then she let go and stuffed a chocolate in her mouth without bothering to offer him one. Not that he could have swallowed anything at that point.

"Taralisse?" he ventured.

"Yes?"

"Are you scared at all?"

"Me? Why would I be scared?"

"About everything changing after this is done. About losing the past year of your life..."

"No," she answered, without hesitation. She had turned her back to him and was already walking toward the exit, Tempest at her heels. "I haven't made any amazing accomplishments, after all. And what I have done I can do again."

"I don't think I've ever told you this, but you're one of the bravest people I've ever met."

She paused for a moment, looked over her shoulder at him.

"Same to you, pretty boy. Now let's go figure this out, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

His heart was pounding more heavily than it ever had before (other than in Zelda's presence, of course). When he took a step, it truly felt as if he were stepping toward a better, brighter future. One in which the gods finally decided to smile down upon him rather than scorn him after his efforts to defend _their_ land. He had tangible hope now, visible hope. Each step was like a tremor through his body and each time he closed his eyes, he saw her face smiling in such a warm, welcoming way. All he could do was step forward, again and again, to try and reach that better future. All of his effort, his pain, his suffering, was going to come to an end. He was going to be able to love again with all his heart, hold someone who loved him back.

"Hey, Taralisse?"

"Yes?"

"What's the plan?"

"I guess we just explore the town. See what there is to see, change what we can."

"Okay. Lead the way."

"Oh, I plan to."

She gave him her signature smirk as she walked, side by side with Tempest, out of the temple. Link followed, almost unable to control his excitement at that point. They walked out into the sunlight, into a peaceful Hyrule of the past. Tara and Tempest strolled hand in hand, speaking in hushed tones. Link was always a few steps behind, being careful not to intrude. And in that situation, he began to descend deep into his own memories. They were extremely clear at that point, brought to the forefront of his thoughts by the promise of making them a reality once more. But there were also the bad memories, as well. The ones that made him almost ashamed of himself, embarrassed.

Suddenly, he couldn't stop thinking about the few months after Zelda's death. The months during which he had descended into a pit of rage and sorrow, and not even the kindest words or the sweetest touches could've calmed him...

* * *

_One month after Princess Zelda's Death_

Link sat on his bed, in his small and dingy quarters, at the Royal Guard training academy. He wore nothing but loose breeches. He was sore and achy from the training. It was late. Around two in the morning. The only light in the room was from a small candle in the corner of the room, but Link's eyes had become accustomed to the darkness. But he couldn't sleep, the same as every night since that day. The day that his entire life had ended. The day she had laid in his arms, stared into his eyes, and said goodbye. That scene, the horrors of it, replayed in his head and behind his closed eyelids every moment. So he sat, hugging a pillow to his chest and leaning his head against the wooden bedpost. He played with the ring that he had given her, the one that he had used to ask for her hand in marriage. The very ring that she had put around her finger while saying that she loved him.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It made him flinch, curl into himself more. He simply sat there, for he was not in the mood to talk anyone. But after a few moments, the knocking came again, more urgent this time.

"Go away," he said.

"Link, it's me. Please open."

"No."

"Link, I won't leave until you open the door."

He hugged the pillow more tightly against his chest and buried his face in it, just to smother himself for a few more moments. Then, with his face still buried, he said, "Come in."

"Thank you, Link."

Shad opened the door, wincing at its loud creak, and walked in.

"Close the door behind you."

He obeyed, and then he walked forward with the ginger step of a mouse avoiding a hungry cat. He put his hands out to feel where he was, for he could hardly see with only the light from the candle. Eventually, he made his way to the bed and sat upon it, across from Link. He was wearing his favorite pajamas, the ones with the Oocca on them, and his hair was curly and crazy and tangled. Even his glasses were crooked on his nose, and Link could see the exhaustion in the bags beneath his eyes.

"What are you doing here, Shad?"

"I couldn't sleep," he shrugged with a sheepish smile. "And I guessed that you would not be sleeping, either. Quite correctly, I suppose."

"I haven't slept in a month."

"I...I know."

"Why are you here, Shad? Answer honestly this time."

Shad sighed—heavily—and took off his glasses so he could fiddle with them. First he breathed on the lenses and wiped them with his shirt. Then he examined them in the fading light of the candle. Then he opened and closed them...opened and closed...until Link's nerves and patience had had enough.

"Shad!"

"I just came to check on you, old boy," he admitted. "The castle is only a two minute walk from here, and...well, I-I know the days of training are hard, and it's only been a month, and—"

"I don't need to be checked on. I'm fine."

He stared coldly into Shad's eyes, trying to make him understand that all he wanted was either to be alone, or be with her.

"You're not fine, Link." Shad shook his head. "You're not the same."

"Why, did you expect me to be?" he spat. The rage had returned, as it always did in times of idleness, of quiet, of discomfort. Which, for the past month, had been the only emotions Link had felt. "Did you really expect me to just come to this place, forget about what happened, go back to who I used to be?"

"N-no, that's not what I mean, Link—"

"Then what, huh? What could you have _possibly_ meant by that question?"

"Calm down, dear man, you're going to wake someone!"

"I don't give a damn!"

By that point, Link had thrown the pillow across the room and begun pacing, clenching and unclenching his fists. His entire body heaved with his pants, fueled by a rage that he could not control, even if he had wanted to. And poor Shad sat, nearly shaking, on his bed.

"I didn't mean to make you angry. I only—"

"It doesn't matter what you meant to do, Shad. I'm angry now."

"Link, please, try to calm down."

Instead of calming down, Link grabbed at his hair and pulled, clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt. But it wasn't enough. The pain wasn't enough to distract himself. He walked toward the wall, where there was a shelf of vases kept in a silly attempt to create a cozy environment for the knights in training. He stood in front of it for a couple moments, breathing, hearing Zelda's voice, being all too aware of Shad's presence in his room. Then, unable to hold it back any longer, he lifted his arm and threw the vases onto the floor. The sound of the porcelain crashing into a million pieces was almost drowned out by his savage scream.

"Ah, Link!"

"Get out."

"But—"

"_I said get out!"_

He was screaming at Shad now. He didn't care about the repercussions, he didn't care about who heard, he didn't care about the feelings over which he trampled. All he knew was that he was angry, and sad, and suffering, and he didn't want anybody's help.

Because the last time somebody had tried to help, it had been her. And she had died.

* * *

"Hey, slowpoke! How's the weather over there?"

Tara's voice cut straight through Link's thoughts, and the image he had been reliving disappeared. Blinking away the nostalgia, he hurried to catch up with her and Tempest, who were standing by the fountain in the center of the main plaza. It was the first time that Link realized how much smaller this plaza was compared to the present day one. And still, it had the same charm, the same musicality. It made him smile all the same.

"Sorry, I'm just getting a bit distracted."

"Understandable," she shrugged.

Then she held out another piece of chocolate for him, which he took without a thought. The sweet taste of it melting against his tongue was just the thing he needed. They walked on, steps resounding against the cobblestone. Tara had her arm entwined in Tempest's, admiring the sights around her. But he, of course, didn't care a bit for what was around him. The only thing that interested him was Tara, so he continued staring. Unashamedly, unabashedly. He looked the most human that Link had ever seen him.

"I suppose we start in the plaza. That seems like the most obvious choice," Tara said.

"Yeah."

"I'm actually going to take a walk," Tempest said.

Link and Tara both turned to look at him, awestruck.

"Again? Really?" she gaped.

He merely nodded, but there was an odd, unfamiliar look about him. And he didn't say another word. He merely leaned down, pressed his lips against Tara's cheek, and then walked away. Leaving the two of them alone and as confused as ever.

"How strange," he mused.

"How stupid," Tara said. "You know, I bet he's doing this to make it harder for us."

"Yeah, could be."

"Whatever. Let's start moving."

"Okay."

This time, Tara wove her arm through his, and they walked in circles around the plaza. Both kept their eyes peeled, ears open—but it was difficult catching anything important because, quite simply, they had no idea what they were looking for. They were searching blindly.

"Taralisse..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you're going to say. This obviously isn't going to work. We need something more solid, but that stupid—"

"Wait, stop," he interrupted. For he suddenly noticed something strange; that something that made his skin crawl. "Look over there."

There was a man walking across the plaza, hands in his pockets and staring straight forward.

"Tempest?" she whispered.

Tara was right that the man looked like Tempest. In fact, he looked exactly like him. With the red hair, the green eyes, the strange papery skin and the confident walk. But he was wearing something different. Normal clothes, just like any other inhabitant of the town. A white shirt with a black vest overtop, black breeches and tall black boots. And he was walking straight toward the temple.

"That can't be him," he said. "But it can't _not_ be him."

"You're right."

"Do you think—?"

"Yes." She paused, thought for a moment. Then, she opened her mouth and screamed out, "_Tempest!"_

"SHH!" Link clamped his hand over her mouth, looking around at all the eyes that had suddenly landed upon them. "Are you crazy or what?"

She ripped his hand from her mouth and he saw that she was smiling.

"Look," she said, tilting her head. "That guy didn't turn and look."

"That's one person..."

"He didn't respond to that name. Come on, let's follow him."

"Are you sure about this?"

Instead of responding, Tara grabbed Link's hand and dragged him along behind her. She was deliberate and unstoppable, so Link just let himself be dragged along. Her braid was swaying back and forth like a pendulum, her boots resounding like screams against the cobblestones, her hand squeezing his so hard he had to bite back his protests. But he was in no position to stop, and in no position to stop her. So they followed this man, who looked identical to Tempest, up until he entered the temple. Then they stood for a few moments on the steps, both inwardly debating whether to walk in.

"I bet this is exactly what Tempest wants us to change," she grinned.

"What, exactly? You forget, I'm much slower than you."

"I guess we'll find out. But we have to make sure he doesn't see us, okay?"

"Trust me. By now, I could walk through a party and have nobody notice me if I wanted."

"Perfect. Then let's go."

Together, so quiet they were hardly breathing, they entered the temple. The man was in the very center, on his knees, his head bowed. He was still, as if he were asleep, but in the silence, Link could hear faint muttering. Incantations, perhaps? Tara tugged on his hand and led him behind one of the large statues, where they pressed their backs against the wall and just watched from afar.

"What is he doing?" Link whispered.

"I don't know. It looks like he's praying."

"Praying?"

The muttering was growing louder, until it became clear to Link that it was in a language he didn't understand.

"Is that Ancient Hylian?" he asked.

Tara shook her head, a perplexed expression on her face. Her brow was furrowed, her lips pursed, her eyes narrowed.

"I don't know what the hell that is."

Just then, the man switched into a tongue that both Link and Tara understood.

"O gods of Hyrule, gods of nature, gods of humans, gods of time and gods of fortune," he cried. His voice, they realized, was Tempest's as well. "Hear my prayer."

"He _is_ praying," they said in unison.

"Allow me to guard you, to care for you so long as blood runs through my veins."

"Religious, isn't he?" Link sighed.

Tara shook her head slightly, but did not take her eyes from him.

"Allow me to devote my life to serving you. Only you and your temple."

"He's the temple's caretaker," she said. "I'm sure you've read about them."

Link tried to recall the information he had gleaned from the months of reading in that hell of a library.

"The caretakers," he nodded. "Back when the temple was a functioning religious sanctuary, there was a caretaker who watched over the temple. When one caretaker died, another rose up to take his or her place."

"Right. He's the caretaker."

"Oh..."

Then, a breeze blew through the temple. But it was not a silent breeze. It was a howling breeze, one that swept through the entire temple and made its cry heard. And it was strong—more like a gust of wind than a breeze. Link pressed himself harder against the wall and watched as the caretaker was blown back onto his hands from the strength of the wind.

"Don't you dare make a sound," she warned him.

But when he looked into her eyes, there was fear there. Even worse than fear, there was uncertainty. Something she usually tried (and succeeded in) hiding so desperately. And then, before he could respond, before she could say another word, before the caretaker could even get up, a voice, hollow yet loud, echoed throughout the temple.

"Guardian of this sanctuary, hear our words."

The voice made Link's head pound, made his ears hurt. It was like a thousand voices all crying out at once.

"This is it, Link," she breathed. "This is it."

"_What_ is it?"

"You devote your life to us..." the voice continued.

"Yes!" the caretaker cried, his voice shaky.

"You vow to protect us, to protect the laws we have created to govern this land."

"O-of course!"

"Then come," the voice boomed. "Step forward."

"_This is it!"_ Tara cried.

"Taralisse, _what_?"

"That _is_ Tempest!"

"Wh-what?"

"Before he vowed to be the guardian...This is the moment he became the guardian!"

"Wait, you mean to tell me that he used to be—?"

Before he could even finish his question, she had taken off. Was sprinting, faster than the speed of light, toward the caretaker. He had stood up and was walking toward the pedestal, up those stairs and toward the single ray of divine light shining upon it. It was almost too bright for Link to look at, and he raised an arm to shield his eyes. But Tara was unfazed. She ran, ran, ran. And Link could not obey her any longer. He opened his mouth and he screamed her name.

"_Taralisse!"_

She didn't stop.

But the man did.

He froze, and turned around slowly. Almost as soon as he saw her, running toward him, she wrapped her arms around him and held him. All while he and Link both stood flabbergasted, rendered speechless by her unexplainable actions. The caretaker stood with his eyes wide, his body stiff in her arms.

"_Taralisse, what the hell are you—?"_

"You can't do this," she cried to the man.

The winds had grown even stronger, even more wild. Link could hardly stand, but he managed to come out from behind the statue and slowly begin making his way toward Tara.

"Wh-who are you?" he stuttered, his voice nearly inaudible over the howling winds. "How do you know who I am?"

"It doesn't matter." She was shaking her head, vigorously, tightening her grip around him. And somehow, for a reason Link couldn't possibly begin to explain, the man was not fighting back. "This is not what you're meant to do."

"I don't—"

"You're meant to live a life on earth," she cried. "To love, to hate, to suffer here with us. Not up there with them, not guarding this temple."

The winds were screaming now. They had become so powerful that Link couldn't stand. He fell forward onto his stomach, holding onto his hat for dear life as Tara struggled to maintain her footing.

"How do you know what I'm supposed to do?" he screamed.

She paused, stared at him wordlessly for a few moments before finally shrugging and screaming, "I don't."

"Taralisse!" Link called out again.

But the voices of the gods had begun speaking once more, drowning out anything the three of them might have said.

"The sacrifice must be a choice!" they cried. "Do you give in to this sacrifice?"

The caretaker looked around, bewildered and frightened and with a look of utter confusion. Tara began shaking her head again while her savage strands of hair blew across her face.

"Don't give in to it! You can't!"

"I...I..."

"Your heart must be devoted!" the gods cried.

"My heart..."

"_Go!" _

Before Link could comprehend anything else, could witness the betrayed gods' wrath, the earth opened up beneath his stomach. He and Tara tumbled down into the chasm, letting their bloodcurdling screeches fill the air and watching their tears fly upward as they fell.


	33. The Winners

**Al...most...there...**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Winners

"Ashei, darling, I have a question."

"Shoot."

They were laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling and playing with each other's hair. It was the middle of the night, and there was not a single sound to be heard. Nothing but the simultaneous beating of their hearts.

"You never told me your reason for coming to Castle Town," Shad said. "Why did you leave the mountains?"

Ashei took a deep breath, as if preparing to divulge to him a secret she had kept hidden for an eternity. It made him anxious.

"You know my father was a knight, yeah?"

"Of course."

"He died serving the Royal Family. I wanted to be like him, put the skills he gave me to good use. So I initially came down to try and make it as a knight, too."

"Really?" he smiled. "You, a knight?"

"You have to admit, I'd make a better knight than most of these cowards here," she smiled back.

"Without a doubt, dear."

"The first woman knight is what I wanted to call myself," she continued. There was a nostalgic, almost longing grin on her face. It lit up the entire room. "I wanted to follow in my father's footsteps, yeah?"

"Like myself," he mused.

"But when I got down here, I realized there was so much more to it than that. I mean, the knights here can't really go around calling themselves knights. At least, not before the era of Twilight. They're a bit better now, but you catch my drift."

"I do."

"When I saw the mess this place was in, I figured I'd be better off working to help the kingdom in some other way." Ashei curled up against him, her shimmering strands of raven hair tickling his bare chest. "Even growing up there, I didn't know much about the mountains from a historical perspective. How to live off the land? I could do it with my eyes closed and my hands tied. But I wanted to learn more, see if I could figure something amazing out."

"What do you mean?"

"I guess you could say I was trying to make it big," she chuckled. "I was trying to make some huge discovery that would change the world. That's when Auru found me."

"Found you?"

"I was at the base of the mountain, sketching. He just waltzed up, told me he was doing research on the mountain himself. Then everything fell into place, yeah?"

"Fascinating," Shad gushed. "Wonderful. I don't know why it never occurred to me to ask you about it."

"Yeah, well I don't know why it never occurred to me to tell you about it."

He pressed his lips against her temple and held her closer, breathed in until her touch, her aroma, the beating of her heart, were the only things he could sense. His emotions had become difficult to trace and difficult to control around her. His heart felt like a drum inside his chest, his skin felt hot to the touch, he could feel the unevenness in his breathing. But he loved the feeling of being around her, of looking into her eyes, of running his fingers through that black hair.

"Your turn, Shad," she said. "I've never heard your story."

"It's fairly simple. Not as exciting or as adventurous as you and Auru's, I'm afraid."

"I wanna hear it, all the same."

"Well, I grew up here in Castle Town. My father, like me, was an academic. I studied, and I watched him study. I was a student practically my whole life, until I joined the Resistance in my seventeenth year. My father wanted to know about the Sky Beings—the Oocca. But he died before he could finish his research, so I vowed to finish it for him. To take what he had learned and complete the legacy, if you will."

"I think that's plenty adventurous," she whispered, stroking the stubble on his chin.

Shad laughed and leaned his head against the bedpost, amused at such an idea.

"Thank you," he smiled. "That's nice to hear. But it wasn't, truly. Except, I suppose, after I joined the Resistance. But life for any member of the Resistance is an adventurous one, wouldn't you say?"

"Sure would."

"Speaking of which, what do you suppose Rusl is doing right about now?"

"At this very moment?"

"N-no, not necessarily. Just...now."

"Probably raising his baby. Protecting Ordon."

"Yes. That sounds nice. Ashei?"

"Yeah?"

"What...what are _we_ doing now?"

She paused, and he even felt her breathing stop. Then, in the darkness, wrapped in their blankets and holding each other tightly, Ashei placed her lips on his chest. She pushed herself up, stared into his eyes, and then kissed his lips.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "But whatever it is, it's making me happy."

"But...where are we going?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "Where do you want to go? Are you not happy here?"

"No, no, my darling, of course I'm happy! Of course I am!"

He wasn't lying. He truly was happy. For the past year, his relationship with Ashei had blossomed. Of course Shad was dedicated to Ashei in every way possible...

"You are?" she sighed. "I am."

"But don't you ever wonder?" He tightened his grip around her, as if holding her closer would calm his nerves. "Don't you ever wonder about our future?"

She was silent and still, which made him nervous. It also made him hold her even more tightly. He kissed the top of her head and waited anxiously for the moment she opened her mouth.

"Sure I do," she finally murmured. "All the time."

"I..." he began. His voice trailed off as it struggled to catch the right words. And then they stumbled out, more gracefully than he'd been expecting. "I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either."

"Sometimes I get frightened that I will."

She sat up suddenly, looking him straight in the eyes. He had never seen such a fierce, determined, passionate spark in her eyes. It struck him to his very core and made every inch of his skin tremble. Then she spoke again and shocked him into near silence.

"Let's get married."

"Wh...what?"

"Let's do it. Then we won't lose each other."

"You-you're serious, dear?"

"Of course I'm serious," she laughed. "Why would I joke about something like that?"

"You're asking me to marry you?"

She leaned down, never looking away from his eyes, until she could kiss his chest.

"I am asking you to marry me, Shad. What do you say?"

"I say yes," he stumbled. He was hardly able to find the words through his happiness. "Yes."

* * *

Tara's entire body was shaking. She lay on the ground of the temple, in the present, watching the scene she had just witnessed replay over and over again. Hearing the voices echoing like a song she would never forget in between her ears, feeling the winds blowing through her very bones. And all she could do was sit and shake. It had been the final piece of the puzzle, laid out before her like some kind of final gift from the gods. All the answers were finally hers, every explanation for what had happened to her and why. The finality of it made her heart tremble and her voice silent.

"Taralisse?" she heard Link grumble. He lay on his stomach a few feet away, blinking in disorientation. "Are we back?"

She opened her lips, fully intending to respond, but her teeth were chattering too much. She was silenced by the overwhelming images and sensations. Unable to move, completely paralyzed by it all, until she felt two arms lift her up and wrap around her like a blanket. She knew from the touch, the warmth, the hollowness, that it was Tempest. With a desperation she couldn't explain, her fingers reached up for him, grabbed onto the collar of his jacket for dear life. She pressed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes.

"I'm right here," he was whispering. "I'm right here."

"T-Taralisse? Are you okay?" Link asked, clambering to his feet.

She could only shake her head and close her eyes more tightly. But Tempest's warmth, his life, was beginning to seep into her. She could feel her energy being restored as each infinite moment passed. So she waited in his arms, let herself fall back into that moment when she had been the one to hold him—to comfort him. Until, finally, she had the strength to open her eyes. She had the strength to stop shaking.

"What just happened?" Link asked. When Tara looked up at him, he still looked dazed, with his hand on his head and his lips pursed in the most confused manner. "It's all a blur..."

Tempest, after giving Tara one last squeeze, stood up and reached his hand out toward Link. She stood up as well, taking a moment to steady herself.

"You just won the game," Tempest said. "You can give me the pocket watch now."

"Wait...we won?"

Tara reached into her bag and pulled out her pipe. She had never needed a smoke so badly in her entire life. While on the other hand, Link looked as if he were about to burst in utter elation.

"You mean, you'll bring her back?" he breathed.

Tempest smiled, nodded. But it was a smile without emotion. Tara could tell that it was strained. All she could do about it was breathe the smoky toxins into her lungs.

"You win, fair and square."

"But I still don't understand," he stumbled. "What exactly _was_ that?"

"You still don't get it?" Tara smirked. "Slower than I thought."

Link furrowed his brow.

"Not that I have much to go off," he said.

Tempest grabbed the pocket watch straight from Link's hands and turned his back on them, walking toward the pedestal.

"I've lied to you about a lot of things, babe. I know that," she said. "But when I told you that I didn't know who—or what—Tempest is, I wasn't lying."

She moved her gaze toward the ceiling so that she could watch the streams of smoke leave her lips and drift up. Up until there was nothing left and she had to take another drag.

"But you know now?" he guessed.

Tara forced herself to look back down, to look at his face. She couldn't even discern which emotion was written there; ecstasy, sadness, confusion, disbelief. It was a combination that left him in a state of shock, in a state of shaky speech and trembling limbs. So, as always, she offered him her pipe.

"Theories," she sighed, "guesses. As usual."

"But your theories almost always prove to be correct." He raised his eyebrows, and she couldn't help but smile. His response to that was a stream of smoke in her face.

"Right you are. Well, then here's the theory. After the Hero of Time, the gods decided that they didn't want the power of the temple falling into the wrong hands. They didn't really need it anymore except as a portal to the Sacred Realm. So, they decreed that a guardian of the temple shall stand and protect it for the centuries to come."

"All right."

"But they chose their guardian from the human world," she explained. She had begun to pace without even realizing it—but she did realize that she was avoiding Tempest's gaze like a plague. "A sacrifice, if you will."

"That's what we—"

"Yes, that's what we saw. We saw Tempest before he became the guardian, when he was human. We saw him at the moment of his sacrifice."

"And we stopped it."

"And we stopped it. Of course, we didn't really stop it. The effects have been reversed, but in theory, we stopped it."

They both glanced over at Tempest. He was sitting by the pedestal, running his fingers along the ancient patterns etched into it. He wasn't looking over at them, but she knew that he was listening. She could see from the pain written on his face, pain that made her own heart feel squeezed and suffocated. She glanced over at Link, and he closed his eyes knowingly while bringing the pipe to his mouth. Tara understood. She moved to Tempest, stood behind him while he sat. Without a word, she placed her cheek on top of his head and wrapped her arms around him. He lifted his hands, put them over hers, squeezed.

"Tara," he whispered, "don't let go of me."

"I won't."

She held him more tightly and pressed her lips to the top of his head.

"Tempest?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you want us to change that event?"

He squeezed her hand so tightly she clenched her teeth.

"Because it's the only event I remember."

"Not even your name?"

"No."

Tara felt as if her heart were about to fall right from her chest. She dropped to her knees and began running her hands along his back, up and down, until she felt him begin to relax beneath her touch.

"Why did you do it?" she murmured.

"Because I didn't have purpose before. Not that I remember, at least. Now I have a purpose."

His words rang like a siren in her head, made her stop everything and think.

_Purpose._

"Do you regret it?"

He turned to look over his shoulder until their noses brushed and his eyes were right there, shimmering and green and beautiful before her.

"Of course not," he breathed. "I never would have met you if I hadn't done it."

Tara leaned forward until their lips touched, smiling all the while. She hadn't met someone who made her smile like that in a long, long time. And suddenly, she began thinking about the fact that now Link had 'won' the game...

_I may never see him again._

She kissed him again, trying to control her own raging desperation. She wasn't ready to lose someone else. She never wanted to lose anyone else ever again.

"Ahem."

They turned and looked over at Link. He stood right where he had been before, grasping the ring around his neck. He was holding it so tightly that Tara could see how white his knuckles were. She grabbed Tempest's hand and they stood up.

"A deal is a deal," Tempest said. "I'll bring back Zelda."

His face rose and fell in the same instant, and she could see the gears in his mind completely stop working. Tears began rushing down his cheeks—glistening, genuine tears that were so lovely Tara thought she was going to start crying. She had seen Link suffer through so much, seen him wake up from nightmares, seen him nearly driven crazy by his desire to bring her back. To make up for something he believed was his fault.

"Everyone said it was impossible," he said. "Everybody said I was crazy."

"You are crazy."

Tara walked over and took the pipe right from his lips. He stared, with his disbelieving eyes and trembling lips, unable to say another word. And then, without warning, he hugged her. He hugged her tightly, like a child might hug his mother.

"Thank you," he said into her ear. "Thank you so much."

"For what, Mr. Hero?"

"For being so brilliant. I couldn't have done it without you."

Tara found herself smiling, regardless of her own attempts not to.

"Any time, you big goof."

"No, really, Taralisse." He pulled away and held her at arm's length. He looked right into her eyes with his own teary ones. "Thank you."

"Just don't be so stupid and reckless in the future," she smiled. "It doesn't befit a hero."

He hugged her again for a few moments, and then stepped away to look at Tempest.

"I guess I should thank you, too," he said.

"I still don't understand how you're pulling this off," Tara mumbled.

Tempest shrugged, although that didn't fool her. She knew that _he_ knew exactly what he was doing. And how. It wasn't just a game.

"Whenever you're ready," Tempest continued, "I'll do it. And then everything will change."

"Everything will change," Link repeated to himself. "Are you ready, Taralisse?"

"What kind of question is that?" she scoffed. "Of course I'm not. I never will be."

"Fair enough."

He was fidgeting now, looking nervously from Tara to Tempest to the wall to the ceiling to the ring in his hand.

"We'll still remember, right?" he asked.

Tempest nodded. He grabbed Tara's hand again, and the touch made her entire body ache.

"I know I'll remember," she said. "After all, your name is tattooed on my back."

"I suppose so," Tempest chuckled. "Hey, can I try your pipe one more time?"

He opened his mouth and she put the pipe between his lips, just as she had the first time. Tempest breathed in...coughed, just as he had the first time. But he smiled as he did it. And his smile made her smile.

"Thank you," he coughed.

"Keep it. Maybe it'll help _you_ remember, too."

At that, Tempest furrowed his brow. He reached up and wiped the tears that had begun running from her eyes with his thumb; Tara hadn't even realized that the tears had appeared. They had been appearing much too often for her taste.

"I don't need anything to help me remember."

"I..." Tara paused, held her breath to gather strength. She could see Link becoming restless from the corner of her eye. Like a little boy waiting to open his birthday presents. "I guess this is goodbye then, Tempest."

"I guess so."

His hand was still resting, softly and tenderly, against her cheek. She closed her eyes and tried to freeze time, so that she would remember that moment forever.

"Do it," she whispered. "Go on."

She finally ventured to open her eyes. And when she did, she saw that Tempest was beginning to fade. The light passed through him as if he were just a mirage, a figment of her imagination. As the feeling of his hand against her cheek became lighter and lighter, Link stepped up and grabbed her hand.

"Close your eyes," Tempest ordered. "And when you open them, everything will be different."

He had nearly disappeared at that point, and the tears were coming more strongly. Tara didn't truly know what to make of her situation. All she knew was that it hurt and she hated it. She needed to say something to him. Needed to say _anything_ to him before he disappeared.

"Tempest!" she screamed. She could hardly see him. "I forgive you."

The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes was his smile. His innocent, loving, beautiful smile.

_Everything will be different._


	34. Link's Promise

**Well, this is it! The final chapter of the story! Thanks all for making this such a fun ride. Yes, I complained sometimes, but I really did enjoy writing this, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it. And I hope the ending satisfies you; if it doesn't, well, I'm not really sure how to help you. **

**I'M ONLY HUMAN. **

**For all of you loyal, beautiful readers who stuck with me, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. The only thing a writer really wants (other than to, you know, write) is for her readers to take meaning from her writing, whatever that meaning may be. I hope you not only enjoyed it, but that maybe it inspired you to go out and write something, draw something, do anything creative! **

**While this story may be over, I am in the process of a whole new project. A really big one. For more information on that, take a look at my profile! **

**Love forever and always, enjoy the final chapter of Link's Promise!**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Four: Link's Promise

"Link..."

_A dream. _

"Link, wake up."

_It has to be a dream._

"Link, you sleepy head. Wake up."

He opened his eyes and at first, only saw bright, blinding light. Sunlight. Then a face, familiar and strange at the same time, staring down at him. Brilliant blue eyes, a smile that made it hard for him to breathe. Hair that fell over her shoulders, a voice like the most breathtaking symphony in his ears. He blinked a few times to make sure that she was still there.

"...Zelda?"

"Why do you sound so surprised to see me?" she laughed. Then, as naturally as could have been possible, she bent down and pressed her lips to his forehead. "Now get up! It's an important day, you know. Lots of planning to be done."

_What...what's going on?_

He realized he was lying in a bed, and when he sat up on his elbows, he saw that he was in his room in the castle. But there was something different about it. The light flowing in from the windows was brighter, purer. The dusty closet in the corner that he never used was polished and seemed new. There was a toilette beside it, one that he didn't recognize. And there, in the midst of it all, was the one thing that shocked him the most.

It was Zelda.

_"Close your eyes. And when you open them, everything will be different..."_

She was wearing a thin white nightdress fitted to her silhouette, and her hair was loose and long and looked like gold against her back. She walked to the closet and opened it, and it was filled with dresses. Pink, purple, blue, green, black—frilly and laced and silky. At the bottom was a thin sword and a bow. Without turning to look at him, she pulled out a blue silk dress.

"How's this one, darling? Do you think it'll be all right for the portrait?"

"The...the what?"

"Did you honestly forget already?"

She laughed and turned to look at him over her shoulder. The look of affection in her eyes, so familiar, made his heart stop beating. He had been longing to see that look for months. Ever since it had disappeared from his life. And there it was, within his reach, digging down and uprooting his entire core.

"We're sitting for our royal portrait today and tomorrow. So we have to look our best."

"_Our_ royal portrait?"

"Yes, _our_ royal portrait. Who else's? My, you're acting strange this morning. And you look as if you've seen a ghost."

Link swung his legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold against his bare feet and sent shivers up his spine, but they were nothing compared to the tremors he felt simply from looking at her. The shock was still real, still heart-wrenching. But he forced himself up anyway. His body felt refreshed and ready, a welcome change from the usual achy feeling. When he took his first step toward her, he thought he was walking on clouds. There she was, looking at him, beckoning him with her gentle smile. One step more, then another, and then another. Until he was there. Right in front of her. He lifted his hands to her cheeks, and they were warm and smooth. He looked deeply into her eyes, and she looked deeply into his.

"Zelda," he breathed, "you are so beautiful."

The dress was still in her hands when she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. It was like rebirth, bringing his soul up from the deep, dark hole in which it had been curled. That kiss, that look in her eyes, brought it new life and filled it with a light it had never known before.

"You still haven't told me if the dress is okay," she whispered against his lips.

"I like the pink one, actually."

"You always choose the pink one!" She pushed him away jokingly and shoved the dress back into the closet. "I have other colors, you know."

As she sifted through for the pink one (supposedly his favorite), he came up behind her and placed his hands on her hips. Her movements became slower, her breathing heavier, while he moved her hair over her shoulder and put his lips to the back of her neck. He inhaled and could taste her, could smell her, as if he truly had never lost her. Nothing about her had changed, nothing at all.

"You'll look wonderful in any dress," he murmured.

"You're not very helpful this morning." Her voice was soft now, quiet, diminishing more the longer he kissed her.

"I'm sorry."

She lifted her hand to his cheek, her index finger tracing the corner of his eye. Her thumb pulling at his bottom lip. It felt like home. So much like home. And then, on her finger, he saw something amazing.

It was the ring.

"That ring looks so fitting on you," he said.

"Well it better," she whispered. "I'll be wearing it for the rest of my life, after all."

The tears had returned to him.

"Will you?" he croaked. "Will you really?"

At the sight of his tears, Zelda whirled around and lifted his chin. She had a worried expression on her face, a slight pout, a rosy complexion.

"Of course I will. I promised you, didn't I?"

"Yes..." He put his forehead to hers and closed his eyes, felt the warmth of the sunlight falling upon them like summer rain. "Yes, you did."

"You kept your promise, my hero. Now I'm going to keep mine. In one week, I will be forever yours and you will be forever mine."

"One week."

"In one week, you will be my prince."

"I will be anything and everything you need."

He opened his eyes. She was crying now, too. With happiness, with bliss, with love. She chuckled, began wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"Do you promise?"

_Everything will be different._

* * *

Shad was beginning to slightly dread Royal Council meetings, at which he was forced to sit beside his tall, heroic, handsome best friend with the beautiful, intelligent, wise princess who loved him, across from the one girl Shad himself wanted more than anything to love. If he lifted his head and looked straight, he could see Ashei's face perfectly outlined, shimmering and glowing like the sun compared to the other, rather dreary, faces. Her vibrant eyes, glancing around the room with a sense of being frantic and drinking in everything as quickly as possible. He watched as they flitted, from side to side, and could sense when they fell upon him. But it was only for a single moment each time, a literal passing glance. Leaving her oblivious to the fact that he was watching her with his own surprisingly daring, unflinching eyes. Reading the details on her face, the way her lips subconsciously mouthed responses and questions and occasionally spoke true words, the way she kept changing the position of her hands and fixing the armor on her arms. Which, he had to admit to himself, he didn't know why she still wore every day without fail. The Resistance had essentially disbanded, after all—they were now permanent members of the council. There was no longer any need for her to wear armor.

But she still wore it every day.

And he still noticed it every day.

Wondering when the day would come that he would build up the courage, find the words, to tell her what he had been thinking since the first time he saw her. Waiting for the moment that he would stop cowering in the hypothetical situations dancing in his head, the day he would stop sulking in the shadows of his own fear. In the shadow of a beautiful love blossoming right beside him. In the shadow of his own, potentially unrequited love.

_When will I stop this inevitable distance growing between us?_

Since the disbandment of the Resistance, he had stopped spending time with her. They had stopped enjoying one another's company day after day after day and he was afraid that she had forgotten him. Perhaps she had. But he, of course, never would.

_When will I be able to say it?_

_ Say, I love you._

_ Everything will be different._

* * *

Link and Zelda lay in bed that night. She was fast asleep, her fingers grasping the pillow against which her hair spread out like silk. Link was beside her, grasping his own pillow and watching the moonlight play on her face. He brushed the stray strands of hair from her face and kept asking himself if we were still in a dream. She smiled in her sleep beneath his touch, her grip tightened just slightly. Link himself was smiling more than he had in the past year without her. He could hardly contain the love he had within him, love that had been gathering without an outlet for that year. And now that she was here, he was pouring it all out. But the more that came out, the more that came in. His soul was overwhelmed by it. Love, affection, passion, desire—the only things that he could feel. Those emotions had finally replaced the loneliness, the sorrow, the sense of purposelessness.

"I love you," he murmured.

She shifted, and then slowly, her eyes opened. Her smile grew wider when she saw him staring back at her.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi."

"Can't sleep?"

He shook his head as she grabbed his hand, but her grip was light.

"You look so happy," she breathed. She traced his lips with her thumb while her eyes drooped with the remains of sleep.

"I am so happy."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"Me, too."

"I love you so much, Zelda," he said. Simply saying the words to her made his heart swell, until he felt it was about to explode. "More than you'll ever know."

"I love you, too."

She began undoing the tangles in his hair and inching her body closer to his.

"Forever?" he whispered.

"Forever."

"Do you promise?"

Then, Zelda gave him the most loving, most passionate, most gentle kiss he had ever felt.

"I promise, my hero," she said. "I promise."

_Everything will be different._

* * *

Link knocked on the door the next morning. There was no reply, as he might have anticipated. He was still dressed in what he had worn for the royal portrait—dramatic, shimmering golden armor, a white cape, a golden circlet on his head, long black boots. He hadn't had time to change when he realized the place he needed to go. He had told his princess that he would be back soon, kissed her cheek, and run from the castle. And now he was there, knocking on the door as desperately as he had the first time.

"Hello? Open up!"

Still, there was no reply.

So, just as he had the first time, he opened the door and walked in without waiting for response.

The room was completely different.

The papers, which were once ripped and sometimes torn in pieces and scattered throughout the room, were organized neatly in tall stacks on the clean wooden desks. But when he cautiously walked closer, ran his finger along the suddenly smooth surface of those desks, he didn't see the expected film of dust. It was perfectly clean. The candles that lay around the perimeter weren't lit. Instead, they stood waiting for the moment that they might ignite again, but there was a heaviness in the air. A breeze suggesting that they would, in fact, never ignite ever again. There were large cardboard boxes sitting in a corner of the room. The window was open, letting the sunlight through to make the room feel a bit more airy, a bit less stifling. It made Link feel like he was in a different world. But he was still smiling and walked through the room. The equations were still written on the walls, on the floors. But they had been cleaned so that they nearly shimmered.

And then he realized something that suddenly made his skin crawl.

All of the clocks were completely gone.

But Link found solace from this strange blow in the fact that all the photographs were still there. They were not crooked and thrown about haphazardly, but they were lying in a pile all to themselves beside the piles of papers. He began flipping through them, the smile growing on his face. He looked at each and every one. A photograph of a flower in bloom during the spring. Of a cat lounging on the edges of town, as happy as could be. A couple dancing around the plaza as the sun was setting. The castle at night, with only the light of the moon to shine upon it.

And finally, a photograph of a girl. Fourteen, fifteen years old, perhaps. A girl with dark hair, dark lips, dark eyes. It appeared that the photograph had been taken without her realizing, for she stood with her eyes wide and her lips open. She was in the middle of stuffing a piece of chocolate in her mouth. Link's smile grew wider, and he traced the torn edge of the photograph with his finger.

"You know, it's horribly rude to _barge_ into someone's house."

He whirled around to face the owner of that voice, ready to see Tara standing as he had first seen her—the long braid, the feisty smirk, the tons of jewelry.

But when he saw nobody there, he realized that the voice had been in his head. Tara wasn't actually there, he wasn't hearing her voice; he was merely standing in the middle of her room, wondering where she was and why she wasn't standing there just as he had seen her the first time—the long braid, the feisty smirk, the tons of jewelry. And why her room was clean, livable.

"Taralisse?" he called. Hoping that she would answer.

But somehow knowing that she wouldn't.

"Link? Is that you?"

There was a different voice at the door then. Link turned to find Shad, carrying a cardboard box in his arms, standing in the doorway of the apartment. His glasses—as always—were crooked on his face, his brow furrowed in confusion as he stepped inside.

"Shad," Link said. When he hastily clamped his hands behind his back, having unconsciously grabbed the photograph of the young girl, he realized that he was trembling.

_Everything will be different._

"What are you doing here, old boy?" Shad asked.

He walked past Link and placed the cardboard box in the corner with the other boxes. It was empty, but that was the first time Link realized that the other boxes _weren't_ empty. Without answering Shad's question, letting his curiosity and his (dare he say it?) fear guide him, he looked into the other boxes.

They were filled with Tara's clocks.

"I daresay, I never expected to find _you_ here," Shad continued. "And in those clothes."

"Where's Taralisse?"

"Wh-what did you just say?" Shad straightened up and fixed his glasses, staring at Link as if he had just uttered some sort of dark curse. "You knew Tara?"

Shad's use of the past tense made Link's blood run cold.

"How on earth did you know her?" Shad's curiosity was not waning. And Link understood. "I was her closest friend, and I had no idea that you even knew her. She never mentioned you, not once."

"We...we met by chance," Link mumbled, not wanting to give away too much before knowing what had happened. "I came by to see her. Where is she?"

"Link, are you okay?"

Shad's voice had gotten very quiet, his face had fallen to some sort of emotion Link couldn't recognize. His entire posture sagged a little bit, and he leaned against the wall beside the window, so that little speckles of sunlight danced on his skin.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. I'm completely fine."

"You really don't remember? It was all over the news after it happened, just a few weeks ago, good chap," Shad continued. "If you knew her—"

"Remember what?"

Now Shad looked somber, concerned, and horribly confused.

"Link," he said. Then he moved from the window and stood right in front of him, looked him in the eyes. Link really did not like the way that Shad was staring. Not at all.

"_What?_"

He was getting desperate.

Then Shad opened his mouth again.

"Tara was found dead in the ruins of the Temple of the Time a few weeks ago."

"...Dead?"

Shad was stumbling over his words now, the grief beginning to surface.

"Dead," he repeated.

"Dead."

"She told me that she was done waiting and that she wanted to go discover the secrets of the temple herself. I tried to dissuade her, but she was persistent. Left for the temple on her own," Shad sighed. "And then...she was dead. They don't even know how it happened. All they found was a green pocket watch lying beside her."

His voice was breaking, his glasses were fogging up with tears, and Link knew he wouldn't be able to speak much longer. The hero himself was only able to stay coherent in the face of his shock.

"Taralisse is dead?"

Instead of answering, Shad pressed his palm to his forehead and turned away, bowing his head. He could not say anything. He was choking back something that Link did not, would not, could not hear.

_Dead._

_ A green pocket watch..._

Link, his hands shaking, put the photograph back on the desk. And beside it, he put a small box of chocolates that he had brought with him.

_ Everything will be different._

_ Everything is different._

_ Time._

_ Time is alive..._

_ Time is like a Tempest._

_...Now what?_


End file.
